


Sons of the Desert: Survivor

by Teej



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Angst, Capn_hoozits Original Ishvalan Characters, Drama, Espionage, F/M, Family Drama, Gen, Ishbal | Ishval, Ishbalan Character(s) | Ishvalan Character(s), Maes Hughes Posthumously, Mystery, Oh hell toss in the kitchen sink too., Original Ishvalan Characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2018-12-30 08:55:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 77,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12105177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teej/pseuds/Teej
Summary: A re-enlisting Ishvalan turns out to be far more than what he seems on the surface.This story ties in directly to Capn_hoozitsSons of the Desertseries. She has graciously allowed me to write in her fantastic Ishvalan world!





	1. Preface

Preface:

Okay so this story is going to need a page of its own for an Introduction. This fic is a huge departure for me and it needs some explaining before we get into the meat of the story.

In my newfound love of all things Fullmetal Alchemist, two characters really came into prominent focus, besides Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye.

These two were Ishvalan's - Major Miles of Fort Briggs. Who is probably the most under appreciated character in the entire series, and that bad boy most of us love known as Scar.

Scar is hands down my favourite character. Take a gander at this guy, courtesy of ZeldaDweeb who kindly lent me the use of this picture!

Go check her work out peoples! She's soooo good! You can find her here [ZeldaDweeb at DeviantArt](https://thezeldadweeb.deviantart.com/gallery/)

Anyone who has seen Fullmetal Alchemist knows what an incredibly rich, layered, and textured story it is. The entire series is fascinating, really deep, and focuses on a lot of incredible issues. It's full of adventure, humour, angst and probably one of the greatest unrequited love stories ever seen!

* clears throat *

“Royai”

* coughs *

It was sad to come to the end of the series. There was so much left unfinished. Especially what happened to Scar and Miles and the Ishvallan people after the series ended? We know that Miles and Scar ended up in Ishval. But what happened? I was desperate to find out so I went hunting.

One thing I noticed rather quickly in my new found passion is the lack of any fan fiction regarding one or both of these characters. However upon searching for fics to read, I stumbled across probably one of the most amazing, fully fleshed, and highly detailed series that I have ever seen online.

That would be [Sons of the Desert](https://archiveofourown.org/series/178511) by capn_hoozits.

She can also be found here at [ FF.N](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6399621/1/Sons-of-the-Desert)

If you haven't read her series, stop right here and go do yourself a huge favour.

READ HER SERIES!

Seriously, read her series, because what I am posting here right now would be better understood when you do!

Capn_hoozits took on the incredible challenge of not only tackling the future lives of Miles and Scar, but she added family, devotion, music, culture, angst, drama, romance, and Oh Lord you name it! It's all in there. She literally created Ishval in all it's glory and strife. This series is world building at its finest and it is full of so many compelling characters that you forget they are not actually part of Fullmetal Alchemist. Seriously, these are OC's that are the very best they can be written.

If there was ever going to be a sequel to Fullmetal Alchemist focusing on the rebuilding of Ishval, this series MUST be it. I cannot recommend this series enough, it's a masterpiece. It's also got eight different stories in the series and things happen that will leave you gasping! It's that good. She tackles impossible to think about situations and pulls them off magnificently. Seriously. Olivier married?! Go read... just go read her series!

So, why am I giving this fic of mine such a long preamble?

It goes right back to Scar and Miles.

Sons of the Desert set these two characters up in a setting so real that my musae (aka the Wenches) keep kicking my tush to write something for it. I kept thinking they were nuts! This isn't my series, this is her original characters, her works, her culture, her world. These were her stories. Who am I to presume writing something in someone else's world? Especially as I fell in love with so many of her characters (Shua, for the win!) I felt like I needed more stories about them.

I was literally wanting to write a fan fiction of a fan fiction... how convoluted can that be?!

I have three other Fullmetal Alchemist stories on my desk that suddenly got shoved on a back burner because of this idea that my Wenches refused to let go of. This includes the climactic scene of Roy's final exam in trying to obtain his State Alchemist certification. * ducks hurled tomatoes *

Something had to be done.

By this time, I had been emailing the good Cap'n, telling her how fantastic her series was and I let slip how much I wanted to play in her sandbox.

Imagine my astonishment when she told me that I could...

My Wenches went insane and what you are about to read is the result of that simple request.

If you are at all familiar with Capn_hoozits stories, this fic of mine is set between [Sons of the Desert](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2665430/chapters/5957795) and [The Day The Circus Came To Town.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4888768/chapters/11210176) Taking place as Miles is establishing his new command at the garrison and before Winry Rockbell arrives in Ishval. I have done my absolute utmost to weave my story into her world as seamlessly as I could. With plot bombs galore should I take this effort into future stories. There is also material threaded in that ties directly into the other stories she has written in her series.

All I can do now is present this story to you readers and hope I have done both Fullmetal Alchemist and Capn_hoozits a good service.

Author's Note:

There is, scattered throughout this story, words and phrases in “Ishvallan”. Capn_hoozits created a dictionary for these words that can be found here. As time for her permits, she will be updating this dictionary with the things I have added.

Capn_hoozits [Ishvalan Dictionary](http://sons-of-the-desert-fma.tumblr.com/post/64660673693/my-ishvalan-dictionary)

This story is a work in progress, but fear not. I am 18 chapters in and heading for the climax and conclusion. I will be posting a chapter a week. All I can say is... fasten your seatbelt!


	2. Chapter 2

## 1.

It wasn't much, as yet, but at least Colonel Miles had a space he could call an office.

It was a temporary situation, a normal wooden structure destined to eventually be used for storage until the stone and stucco HQ building could be completed. Taking its cue from the surrounding ruins and rebuilding, Fort Ishval would soon have its own low level, thick walled, buildings to try and beat the heat. Even though it was Spring, temps during the afternoon could still get a bit high.

The Colonel made a concession for that and was sat at his desk with his jacket fully unbuttoned. He wondered for the umpteenth time if the requisition to redesign the State Military uniforms for Ishval would ever be reviewed, much less implemented. Heat exhaustion was the number one issue the fledgling garrison dealt with. Made worse by the wool uniforms. It had already taken some serious negotiation with Central Command to get them to re-align the training and work schedules to work around the fierce desert heat. 

Which was why he was in his office during mid day.

Head buried in his work, he was signing off on several things when a rapping on his door arrested his attention.

“Come...” he barked, knowing it was his adjutant, Sergeant Major Benjamin. He didn't look up right away, just stacking a report on his out pile and glanced over at his aide.

“Sir, I have a rather, unusual, situation I think might be of interest to you.” Benji said, barely hiding a smile, he had a slightly tattered folder in his hand. Miles glanced up.

Big, solid and carrying the distinct Ishvallan glare, he lifted an eyebrow at Benjamin. Miles could be intimidating as hell and a terror to the recruits. Somehow that got dampened by his Sergeant Major, which was what made his adjutant an excellent right hand man.

“You realize I'm up to my ass in requisition forms, rejected applications for supplies, rejected supplies being sent back. And Ishvalla knows what else. Tell me what the hell we need 300 butter dishes for?”

“Sounds like Central is clearing out their closets.” Benji remarked, keeping as straight a face as he could. 

“I also want to know why things are mysteriously disappearing here and there. How the hell do you lose a 50 pound sacks of flour? McGinty is furious.”

“Yes, he's threatening rations on the biscuits.” Benjamin replied dryly.

Miles glowered up at him a moment. “Out with it Benji, what's up?” 

“I've a rather unusual bird out here seeking to re-enlist. I think you might want to handle this one.”

Miles stopped what he was doing and stared at the other for a few seconds longer. Benjamin held his gaze. He'd have never asked such a thing as the Sergeant Major was the one who dealt with the new recruits until Miles had their first orientation.

“Re-enlist?” He asked.

“Former Warrant Officer, sir.”

“And he wants to re-enlist here?” Miles asked, sounding sceptical. He had quit counting how many times had he flat rejected re-enlistees and new recruits because they didn't meet his standards of what he wanted for this new Fort and for the people of Ishval. He knew it already staggered most people in the upper echelons of military bureaucracy. Ishval, though, was unique and he was resolutely determined to have it meet his very high standards.

“That is correct, sir.”

Miles gazed at Benjamin, trying to detect any of the impish sense of humour that normally lurked under the Sergeant Major's exterior. Something was there, but not exactly what he was thinking. He sat back in his chair, looking at Benji curiously.

“A Warrant Officer? He knows he can't re-enlist under his former rank?”

“He's aware, sir.”

“What makes him so special?”

“You should see for yourself, Colonel.” Benji replied and that quirk to his lips revealed the imp at last. 

Miles sighed, he wasn't going to get away from this easily. It was exceedingly rare for a Colonel to deal with any new recruits, or in this case, a re-enlistee, but Fort Ishval was a rare garrison already, nothing was that unusual any more. He shoved his chair back and rose to his feet, reaching out for the folder in Benji's hand. 

“All right Benji, you're dying to spring this one on me. Send him in.”

Benji tapped his chest with his fingers as he handed over the file. “Me?” he said, grinning. “Would I do that?”

“Don't push your luck, Benji. I'm sure I can find something hot and disgusting for you to work on.”

“It's already hot and disgusting in here, sir. Trust me on this one, Colonel, I think you might be in for a pleasant surprise.”

Now that piqued Mile's curiosity. Benji turned and left the room briefly and outside in the main reception room he could hear his adjutant speaking briefly to some one. He was about to flip the file open, when his adjutant showed another man into the room, then stepped back.

Miles had always been able to handle such things in his normal, stern, calm manner, but for once he actually did a double take.

Standing before him was a tall man, solid, if a bit underfed and trying hard to present himself as best he could. All this despite a near threadbare dark shirt and slacks that could have used a pressing. He was also wearing a pair of very worn down boots, which thumped together when the stranger came to attention and snapped off a neat salute, holding it in place.

What arrested Miles was the thick white pony tail pulled severely off the man's weathered, rugged features. It was neatly clubbed at the back of his neck with a thin plaited strip of horsehair. His distinctive red eyes were fixed on a point just to the right of Mile's shoulder.

He was obviously Ishvallan.

Miles instantly collected himself and returned the salute, shooting a quick glance at his adjutant to shut the door.

“At ease, soldier,” Miles said and studied the man a moment before sitting back down. He flipped the file open as the stranger gripped his hands behind his back and relaxed his shoulders, just a fraction, easing from his more formal stance. Miles waited until he heard the door click shut.

“Thank you, sir.” A deep husky voice replied.

“Warrant Officer Eamon Taige?” Miles asked, flicking over the pertinent information he needed.

“Begging your pardon, Colonel, former Warrant Officer, sir.” Taige said. Miles shot a glance at him and continued his quick perusal of the file. 

“You realize, if I decided to allow you to re-enlist, you can't be reassigned your former rank?”

“Understood, sir.”

“South City Cavalry?” Mile's eyebrow rose in query.

“Yes, sir before the, er, re-assignment.”

Reassignment, Miles thought, glancing at the man before him. That was rich. Any Ishvallan soldiers who had been enlisted in the military had been ordered into interment camps through out Amestris. His was a notable exception, courtesy of General Armstrong. Information concerning these former soldiers was scarce as most had either faded into obscurity, died, or disappeared under mysterious circumstances. None had reappeared amongst the returning refugees. 

Until now.

Something in Taige's dossier caught his eye. “Central City MP?”

“Yes, sir. MP of the MP.” Taige's lips quirked in a slight smirk. “Mounted Patrol.”

“That was your last assignment before being decommisioned?”

“Yes sir.”

“Permission to speak freely, soldier.” Miles said. “I must admit, this is a rarity.”

“I'm aware of that, sir.”

“In the South City Cavalry, what capacity were you in?

“Stable master and trainer.”

“Horse breaker?”

“Horse master, sir. You don't break them.”

Miles shot a glance at him. The man was speaking earnestly and freely as he had requested.

“And mounted patrol in Central, crowd control I take it?”

“Somewhat. I also trained there as well as other duties”

Miles frowned slightly, studying the records before him, noting several commendations but no actually recommendations. He smirked. Taige was Ishvallan, of course they'd pass him over.

“You're requesting off base housing? Unusual...”

“I've actually received housing, sir. I'm a returning refugee. It's been granted, just not built yet. I, uh, have a daughter, sir.”

“I see. District?”

“Lejia, sir.”

“Family?”

“None surviving, sir.” Taige said simply. Inwardly, Miles sighed. There where many returnees in such a case. Still, something niggled at the back of his brain.

“A daughter you say? Who is watching her? Has she enrolled in the school yet?”

“Not yet, sir. She's able to see to herself,” he added. 

Miles detected an odd note in that last answer. “You've selected an area quite far from the garrison.”

“Better for pasture, with a river flowing in Ishval again, we will be seeing more sahraati grass growing out there.”

“Sahraati grass?” Miles asked, recognizing the Ishvallan wording, but not the meaning of it.

“Desert grass for horses, it's drought tolerant, a native grass. With extra water it will spread.”

Ah, Miles connected the dots. A horse-breaker, scratch that, horse-master, what was the difference? They would want to have a place for horses. “Was this your family's trade?”

“Yes sir, we were about horses.”

“Not going back to the family site?”

“It's gone sir. Nothing but craters out there. At least that's what the reports say in Central.” He paused, a fleeting look in his eyes. “There's nothing left.”

“I understand. Have you registered with Lieutenant Breda?”

“Yes, I've picked up a tent and a few supplies already, I've yet to make it out to the home site.”

“When did you arrive?”

“A day ago. From Central, I went in to retrieve my file.” He nodded at the item on Mile's desk. “With the rebuilding, it was surprisingly easy to get.”

“I can't help but wonder, Taige. You're a returning Ishvallan soldier, having been interred in the camps. I've heard what particular kind of hell those have been. I've even run across an occasional brother soldier full of bitterness about that. You presenting yourself here is somewhat surprising.”

“Ishvalla has his was of dealing with that kind of thing in his children. I have a daughter, I need employment and all I know is horses. There aren't any in Ishval right now,” he gazed levelly at Miles. “But this fort has them. And I have heard about you. It's been a rough few years. We haven't had it easy. I know I'm stepping down in rank, but I have a child to feed.”

It made sense, so long as a man wasn't so full of rage at what he had gone through. Miles pondered for a moment. Ishval's first shipment of horses had only arrived a week ago and it was indeed a sorry lot to look at. The stable master, a banty of a Sergeant with extremely bowed legs, had promised the Colonel up and down that the horses would be ready and settled with in another week.

“All right then, I think that sums it up.” Miles said. “I won't tolerate resentment in my troops. We're here to rebuild, not only Ishval but each other's trust. Whatever bitterness and injuries we've had must be set aside to move forward. Am I clear on that?”

“Yes sir.”

“Regretfully, the best I can do for now is re-enlist you as a Corporal.” Miles watched for the reaction, detecting just a shade of paleness in the man's features. He hadn't been back in Ishval very long, the natural tan hadn't been fully brought out, it revealed his disappointed that much faster.

“Have you a problem with that?” Miles asked, a note of warning in his voice. 

Taige instantly shook his head. “No sir, especially with this being a new garrison. I've been fully prepared for the results. Ishvala be praised,” he offered a slight smile. “You're taking me back in. I've needed this.”

Satisfactory answer, Miles thought. Plus it was pretty obvious the man needed something, anything to get back on his feet again.

“All right, Corporal, I'll give you a day or so to get settled. Report to Master Sergeant Benjamin the day after tomorrow. He'll have your assignment and duty roster set up for you. Just make sure not to leave here today without a uniform. Do you need an advance on your pay?”

“A small one wouldn't go amiss.”

“Let him know,” Miles rose to his feet again and extended a hand. For a brief moment his featured softened. “Doishteve na Ishval, brother. Welcome Home.”

Taige gazed back at him, then reached out and gripped the hand in a firm, strong, grasp. He couldn't bring himself to reply. Just nodding his thanks, his red eyes revealing far more than he wished to the man across from him. Miles nodded back.

“Go get settled.” Miles replied. “You're dismissed.”

As Taige prepared to leave Miles added, “One more thing Corporal. You might want to speak with Saahad Imir at the school. He can get your girl enrolled for you. Just tell him I sent you.”

There was a fraction of a hesitation on the man's part as he turned for the door, then he smiled and replied. “I'll do that, sir, and thank you.”

Miles waved him off and waited until the door clicked shut before sitting down again. He glanced at the file. Taige had a good record, no known issues during his brief service. Seemed to be highly regarded by his officers. His marital status had been single with no children when he had first joined. Things changed though, and now there was just a child, a daughter. No wife...

Miles pondered thoughtfully. Something wasn't hitting the right note regarding the child. Taige wasn't volunteering information freely about her. Himself, yes, the child no. He was being cautious and discreet. Not a bad thing, usually an excellent quality in an intelligence officer. Maybe it was because he was a single father having to swallow an especially bitter pill. Re-enlisting in a military that had rejected and incarcerated him because of the colour of his hair and eyes had to be tough.

Whatever the reason, Miles had to secretly admit, it took a hell of a lot of guts to do what Taige had just done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Capn_hoozits [ Ishvalan Dictionary](http://sons-of-the-desert-fma.tumblr.com/post/64660673693/my-ishvalan-dictionary)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N I am my own beta reader, any mistakes therefore are mine.
> 
> For words in Ishvalan please check out Capn_hoozit's [Ishvalan Dictionary](http://sons-of-the-desert-fma.tumblr.com/post/64660673693/my-ishvalan-dictionary)

****

## 2.

****

It was nearly dark, the sun headed for the horizon and late into the evening when Taige managed to slip out of the settlement proper. It was considerably cooler, helpful considering the pack he was carrying. A tent, a proper tent! It wasn't a big one, but he didn't need big and with the future prospect of a home and employment he could relax just a little. He also carried his uniform issue, and a sack of necessary food. Draped over his shoulder was a new pair of combat boots as well.

Mentally, he was preparing himself for a very long night. He had done everything, so far, that was required of him in getting a foothold back in Ishval. He'd requested a home site in Central upon getting his military records, and when checking in with the Lieutenant in charge of returning refugees, had learned it had been granted. So he was registered, employed and had means to housing. 

He just hadn't settled into the tent village.

He'd spotted, two days previously, the old, worn, overgrown track that lead its way up into the north eastern hills. Someone had driven over it, apparently quite recently. He knew the old road from memory and was saddened at the destruction surrounding it. War devastation had rendered huge tracts of Lejia uninhabitable. Too many craters, and the ruins were nearly untouchable. Following the old road he'd searched for a suitable campsite.

He'd chosen carefully though. A think dense copse of meskaa, acacias, and gnarled junipers. Filled with scattered shrubs and dried grasses, even tangles of honeysuckle long left to ramble at will. There was also desert willows, a sure sign of water. It was a mile out from the border edges of Ishval in thick, uninhabited wilderness, no one wanting to be anywhere near the ruins.

That had suited Taige just fine. 

He slipped quietly into the scrub, aiming for a small shelter he had constructed. He paused, easing the pack and boots off his shoulder. Whistling through his teeth, he made six sharp clear sounds, trilling the last note up. He paused, waited, then repeated it with only five notes.

A rustling from the clearing ahead caught his ears and his smile softened his rugged features. From under a well hidden lean-to a child appeared. She was barefoot and wearing only a child's t-shirt that was two sizes too large. A small length of braided horsehair was tied around her waist. He dropped to one knee, beckoning with one hand while shouldering off the packs. Solemn red eyes studied him from the edge of the lean-to, then she smiled and scampered out to his waiting arms.

“Ahh, Veela, laleh...” he murmured, wrapping both his arms around her tiny body, trying not to crush her in his embrace. “How's my little moppet?” He asked pulling back and pushing the hair out of her eyes. 

She was tiny indeed, almost too small. The size of a four year old and she was closer to seven. Too small and entirely too thin. She was all Ishvallan though, tanned, red eyes and white hair. The hair though was a definite rarity. It was a short mop of curls and ringlets, spilling in disarray all around her face. Her smile was ethereal and delicate as she stared into her father's eyes. She silently reached up and gently patted his cheeks. He smiled back, marvelling at the bloom of warmth that engulfed his heart every time she smiled at him. Reaching up to flick some twigs out of the curls he noticed the smudges of dirt on her cheeks and hands. 

“Been in the bushes, eh laleh?” he asked, “Playing with the hummers?” 

Veela simply nodded. Her eyes strayed to the pack and she looked at him, imploringly. 

“It's been a good day, moppet. We have a tent! I have food and I got a job. We'll have a little celebration, Praise Ishvalla! Then we can get out of here and head to our new home. How do you like that?”

She just smiled, silent, her eyes studying his face. There was so much those eyes could speak. He kissed her cheeks, patting the tiny hands that still were touching his face and stood up. “Get a fire going, pet?” He asked. She nodded and scampered over to the lean-to. 

With in moments she was bent over a campfire studiously applying herself to a flint and striker while he began unloading food from the sack he had been carrying. He had to be careful of his purchases. Staples had been badly needed, something that would have to last as he began to transition back into military life. Something that his tiny daughter could make. He'd found dried fruits, flat bread -real Ishvallan flatbread that he hadn't eaten in several years-, meskaa flour to make more and fresh vegetables in the Kanda markets. He'd even bought a small wedge of goat cheese. He felt like he was in the lap of luxury. Fresh vegetables and fruits. What he had been seeing in and around Ishval had left him feeling more hope than he had had in seven years.

He hadn't believed the news that Ishval's ancient river had been flowing again. How the hell had that happened? The Halik returned, praise the Creator! Which was why he had requested land for pasture out from the Lejia district. Most everyone was asking for homes in town, getting placed on a substantially longer waiting list. Which was why his request had been granted so fast. He still clearly recalled the overwhelming emotion he had felt when standing above their current campsite and seeing the thin streak of flowing silver water in the distance, the faint rushing sound just reaching his ears. 

Was Ishvalla truly blessing his people after so long a trial?

All his intentions were to leave for the new home site that night. He had one day to explore, get settled in, then get prepared for active duty. The only enormous stick in the works was the tiny child, silently, earnestly puffing, with fat cheeks, on the spark of a flame to get their fire going. 

Palms raised as they sat next to one another, Taige let Veela whisper the blessing for their meal. Yes, it was normal for the family leader to perform being the eldest, but he earnestly believed the children had more of Ishvalla's heart then sinners like him. Then he introduced her to things she had never had before, like the flat bread, explaining to her that he had learned to make it from his father.

Sweet dried apricots, sliced up cucumbers, and pieces of the goat cheese. At each new taste her little nose would crinkle at the strangeness of the textures but she would savour the flavours and eat everything he set out for her. She had learned from far too young an age not to reject whatever he had managed to scrounge. 

There after he broke camp and the two set out in full dark, guided only by the stars and the thin crescent of a sliver moon. Veela even had her own pack, full of the smaller, lighter item they needed. Something about the shiny new black boots had fancied her and she had them draped over her little shoulders. Taige smiled fondly, he knew that wouldn't last very long, they hit the backs of her heels and her ankles.

The tent hung horizontally at the small of his back along with the food. He carried the parcel containing his new uniform under his arm. His night vision was thankfully sharp and he knew where to avoid grumpy, lethal snakes. Veela was his shadow, carefully following after him. He knew where he was headed, Lejia had been his home after all. Negotiating the destruction was another matter. It took hours.

By the time he was approaching what he knew to be his new site, Veela had joined the packs on his back, sitting on the tent. He'd tied her down to him with her own pack and she was sleeping with the abandon only small children could reach, limp as a noodle. Cresting a rise in the land, his practised eye swept the area, searching for where he could set up a temporary camp. He marvelled at the sound of the river below, closer now. He was up above the flood plain, near a dry wash leading down to the river. All around him hills and rises, full of dry grasses and occasional clumps of shrubs and trees stretched out to the thinly forested mountains not too far distant. It was ideal horse country.

He wondered for the thousandth time if any of the Wahiran Istiqan's had survived the war. Nobody in town had mentioned sightings of horses. Most everyone was taken up with the wild goats as being more economical. With a sigh, Taige headed for a thick copse of meskaa, mixed with willows, on a hill above the wash. It looked like a likely place to set up the tent. As he approached he could just make out a stake with a yellow flag marking a newly claimed land site. His was the only one out there, for the time being.

With care, Taige carefully shrugged off one of the packs, set down his bundled uniforms then carefully untied the pack holding Veela to his back. She began to fuss when he slung her gently around him. Holding her to him, he used his foot to clear out the detritus from the trees and exposed the sand, before laying her down, tucking the uniform bundle under her head. Then he stood up and turned towards the east as the greyness of pre-dawn began to light the sky.

Taige stood there, head bowed, palms up and prayed to the Creator for guidance for his unworthy heart for the challenging days that lay ahead. Even more so for the child that lay sleeping at his feet. He was tired, exhausted really, but there was so much that needed to be done. He needed strength, even more endurance and clarity to provide what they needed. The prayer concluded when true dawn began.

With a small fire started, water on the boil, Taige had set out some of their food, and was getting ready to set up the tent when he caught sight a Veela sitting bolt upright. Not a word came out of her slack mouth, only a few panted gasps. Though her eyes were open and looking around frantically, he knew she wasn't fully awake. He set the mallet and stake down, and sidled over, pulling her into his lap. She began to fuss then, sleepily rubbing her eyes, and trying to burrow her way into his chest. 

“Wake up, sleepy,” he murmured into her curls. “We've a big day ahead.” Veela just rubbed her face into his shirt, curling her arms in and lying still, blinking towards where he had been setting the tent. He could feel her heart pounding. “Bad dream, moppet?” He asked.

She nodded, rubbed a knuckle in one of her eyes and yawned. She relaxed again, setting the knuckle of her index finger against her lips. He smiled at the gesture. He'd long ago forbidden the sucking of thumbs. This was the compromise, and he allowed it, knowing she needed her comforts. Their lives had been full of too many hardships, and more were coming. If this let her feel secure, who was he to deny it? He rubbed her back, feeling the ribs under her too long shirt. He wondered for the thousandth time if he was doing enough to provide. Gently bussing the top of her head, he let her infinitely soft curls tickle his face.

“Yeo sheho de, laleh.” He murmured in her ear. God how he did love her!

In a child's soft voice, feeling for all the world like a feather against his neck she replied, “Yeo sheho de, papa.”

“You awake yet?” He asked. She nodded. “Come help me with the tent, then we'll eat, alright? We got lots to do today!”

Small as it was, it went up fairly fast and he began laying out how to make their small site more permanent. He even had an eye towards a future corral, for a time when he could start training again. Now though, he set Veela off on a game he'd taught her on their long travels.

“All right, moppet,” He said while he stored away their food up in a tree that she could climb to reach. No sense in tempting the jackals. “Go find me some water.”

She turned and looked up at him a big grin on her face and mischief making her scarlet eyes twinkle. Leaning into his leg and peering up at him, she pointed towards the river.

“Cheek!” he said, wondering if a swim might not be amiss. “You know what I mean. Where's the water hiding?” 

A tiny giggle escaped her lips, music to his ear, and she scampered off, diving into the dry wash and disappearing. He stood, listening, his eyes drifting to the river's edge to the south then he turned and looked east.

Almost to where the land met the sky at the horizon Ancient Ishval's ruins glimmered faintly in the rising sun. 

He wanted to pinch himself again. His people had been the rural folk of Ishval, not accustomed to the city life, preferring the wide open places. The city had its purpose, but for peace and comfort and their centuries old living, rural Ishval was home. Ancient Ishval had been a fixture in their lives, not only as a land mark, but one of those forbidden place youngsters liked to dare one another to explore. It had been a favoured destination amongst the young men of the families that raised horses out here. Often times spending a night or two during the spring and fall. Now though... He shook his head again, turning his gaze south again. Seeing the flowing Halik in all its glory was still astonishing.

He abandoned his thoughts a moment later when Veela emerged from the bottom of the dry wash. She turned towards him, holding something up in her clasped hands. He could only smile, shaking his head. Mud and water dripped from her arms and fingers. He'd taught her well, searching for plants indicating water was their game. It appeared however, that she had found a bit more than just the plants. He bent and snatched up their bota bags for water.

He headed down the hillock. “What'd you find, moppet?” he asked. She was barely containing her glee, nodding towards a sizeable patch of loosestrife and cat tails, hidden under several ancient scrubby willows. He bent down and she carefully opened up her hands.

Nestled in her palms was a tiny green and brown spotted frog.

“Ah laleh,” he murmured. “You didn't just find water, you found a pond!” He ruffled the curls dangling in her face. “Take me to where you found your little friend and we'll let him go, yes?”

She grinned at him and led him under the shade of the trees. It was a small pool, but with great potential, he could easily see being able to set up out here. Water was critical. Veela went ahead of him, stepping into the mud on the edge of the pond. Then she bent and opened her hands.

The little frog sat there in her open palms. Unbidden she whispered something in Ishvallan that Taige couldn't catch and the frog leapt from her hands into the pool, escaping. She let out another giggle and turned towards her papa.

The joy on her face was contagious. He smiled, glancing around them and knew he'd made the right choice, then he looked at her. 

Considering the amount of mud on her arms and legs, he decided a swim in the Halik was definitely in order.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As mentioned, I am my own beta. Any mistakes in continuity and grammar are purely mine.
> 
> Words in "Ishvalan" can be found here: Capn_hoozit's [Ishvalan Dictionary](http://sons-of-the-desert-fma.tumblr.com/post/64660673693/my-ishvalan-dictionary)
> 
> Her series can be found here: [Sons of the Desert](https://archiveofourown.org/series/178511)

## 

**3.**

Taige had briefly explored the area of his homestead, when he found a faster way back to the Fort, which came before Ishval proper. It passed by the region he had known since childhood. A small cluster of homes once stood where his family had lived for generation. He paused in his walking to view the desolation. A stiff breeze eerily moaned across the rippled and warped landscape. Craters pitted the ground where the homes once stood. The only vegetation left being dried grasses, prickly pears and grotesquely twisted, burnt stumps. Outlining the perimeter of the region were stakes with red flags and warning signs. The area had been thoroughly mortared and unexploded ordinance had yet to be cleared.

Though he still needed at least an hours walking time, Taige would arrive at the fort early and get set up for the day. Someday he hoped to have his own horse to make it into town faster, but that would come with time. For now the walking was fine, if long. In his first full week back, re-enlistment went a bit smoother than he had anticipated. No doubt because, of all the new recruits, he'd been through this before.

Orientation day showed all the new recruits that Colonel Miles was a stern, coldly realistic, uncompromising commander. Taige noted that the Colonel could be a terror. He didn't pull a single punch about what Ishval was really like. This only proved further what everyone tacitly understood. Colonel Miles was a leader of men. 

PT, Duty Rosters, Training, it all settled into a normal routine fairly quickly. Taige found himself only mildly subjected to scrutiny. Obviously because he was Ishvallan, and --to his chagrin-- the oldest of his group and the only re-enlistee. The others around him soon learned he was fluent in Ishvallan. He went through the courses because all the recruits were, though he didn't really need it. He ended up doing some off hand tutoring to help the Amestrians learning it for the first time.

During the hand-to hand combat training he'd also proven to be one tough customer to beat. Only the drillmaster had been able to get him down, once or twice. There after Taige couldn't be stopped. Miles and Benjamin would sometimes show up to observe how they were all shaking out in the heat and both were occasionally piqued at something odd in the way Taige sparred with the others. He was definitely adding moves that were not regulation, but if it took your opponent down that much quicker, who was Miles to judge? Taige was solid, fast, and probably more used to the heat than the others.

Taige wasn't entirely surprised to find he'd been assigned to mucking out stables with a pair of privates. That was just a fact of life with horse work. He honestly didn't mind, it was hard, smelly work and he could only shake his head at the privates who complained about it. It just had to be done. The manure and straw was loaded onto carts to be turned to compost for the produce fields being planned. Thankfully, with only the few horses there to begin with, that part of the job went fairly quickly and he then settled into the general upkeep of the stables and all of the accompanying equipment. 

What he was finding difficult was the stable-master. 

He was a short, bow-legged, much older man. A Sergeant Bryant by name. An Amestrian with flame red hair cut extremely close, greying at the edges, and a tendency towards a foul mouth. There was also a mean streak a mile wide in him. Taige had seen his type from West Amestris to Ishval and his heart sank. He'd began noticing how Bryant treated the privates, certain that some sort of blackmail was going on. He'd even witnessed what might have been few exchanges of contraband. It wasn't surprising. It happened in every posting he had been in and in the interment camps. He chose to turn a blind eye to it, for now.

Working in the stables, he'd immediately came in contact with all the horses there and what he saw was disheartening and distressing. 

Two of the horses were Northern Drafts, big working animals utterly unaccustomed to the heat. Both showing sores from where their harnesses were rubbing due to not being properly adjusted. One had a highly sensitive mouth from the bruises of being reined too hard.

The rest were light draft, mostly Westfalans, better able to take the heat, but desperately needing the time to adjust. Even of them, one was far too old, and the other three were experiencing injuries common to Calvary horses being asked to do too much. Swollen backs and withers. Strained legs. One of the horses was especially bad. Taige settled a hand gently on the big animals back, horrified at the heat emanating from it and he spotted an open running sore. Made worse by Ishvallan flies. He leaned closer to the animal, murmuring in the horse's ear, trying to reassure the listless creature.

He eased himself from the stable and went to the tack room, seeing if he could find something to put on the sores, if just to keep the flies off of them. The last thing they needed was to be fly blown. All he found was liniment, which would help with the swelling, but no creams or balms. There was some gauze which he grabbed and he headed back, snatching up a water bucket as he went. The horse, who had once been a fine dark bay, jerked her head when Taige reappeared, the white of its eyes briefly showing.

“Peace, zhiiya,” Taige murmured, tearing off a chunk of the gauze and soaking it in the water. “Maybe this will feel better.” Folding the cloth, he placed it on the sore and the horse almost sighed its relief, settling back down. He smiled, gently scratching the horse's chest and tore off another section of the gauze, where he began using it to bathe the hot fevered back. “There we go...” he encouraged when the horse visibly relaxed. Taige watched the big animal carefully noting the subtle signs of ease. It wasn't much, but the horse felt a little better. 

If only for a few minutes.

“What d' hell do you think yer doing?” An outraged voice hissed from just outside the stall. Taige turned. Clutching the rag in one hand he snapped off a salute, clicking the heels of his boots together. Sergeant Bryant glared up at him.

“Tending to the horses, sir. As ordered.”

“Look's to me like yer givin' it a love bath. Get d' hell out of that stall!” 

Taige drew in a breath, clenching his teeth hard to stop the retort and turned to drop the rag back into the bucket. He stepped out into the corridor looking down into the hard angry blue eyes of Bryant. 

“You listen to me, Corporal!” Bryant growled, stepping up, snarling into Taige's face. “These horses are my horses. I do with these horses as I see fit. No one touches them but me! Am I making myself perfectly clear?”

“Sir,” Taige replied tightly. 

“And I won't have no Ishvallan mumbo jumbo performed on my animals, least of all by a desert rat reject sent off to the camps!”

Taige's eyes widened in outrage.

Bryant saw it and he sneered. “Oh, please do it, Corporal, I dare you! I didn't like it the minute you were assigned to my stables. I didn't like even more knowing they were saddling me with one of their pet Ishvallans. As far as I'm concerned, the lot of you can go back to your sand and cactus in this god forsaken country and leave the rest of Amestris alone! This place has been nothing but trouble since the previous government decided to annex it!”

“What the hell are you even doing here!?” Taige hissed through his gritted teeth.

“Did I say you could damn well speak? Did I? Did I?” Bryant demanded. 

Taige kept his mouth tightly shut, fixing his eyes on the far wall opposite them.

“Damn right, Corporal,” Bryant spat. “You're gonna keep yer mouth shut!” He leered up at him. “I'll see to that! You aren't going to mention a damned thing...” 

Taige never saw the arm move that pulled back and slammed a hard, balled, fist into his right kidney. He especially didn't see the knuckledusters that Bryant had slipped onto his fist. It was a blow meant to deliver a maximum amount of pain and possible injury. Only a practised interrogator, a cold blooded sadist, or both, would know how to deliver a blow of that sort. It had caught Taige completely off guard.

“Think you're so good out there in d'sparring ground do ya? I've got ways of making you drop to yer knees, I have!”

A harsh grunt of pain escaped Taige as he started to double over, but then he caught himself, forcing himself not to move. He nearly bit his tongue trying not to reply, but his scarlet-eyed glare met the angry blue eyes drilling into his own.

“Think your really something don't you, Corp? Heard you were a busted down officer too!” Bryant hissed, showing the knuckledusters to him before slipping it off and hiding it back into his pocket. “Traipsing out of here every night. Off base housing. What makes you so special, eh? Eh?” 

Gritting his teeth even harder, Taige straightened, hiding the pain that he wanted to vent and fixed his glare back onto the wall.

“That's right, you don't say a damn thing!” Bryant just leered at him even more. “I'm watching you, Corp. One slip up and I'll have your ass.” He tapped his pocket, his finger making a dull thump against the metal. Then he smirked and strutted out of the barn.

Taige stood rooted in place a few moment, then he let out a hiss, bending over and clutching at his rib cage. Seconds later a large head appeared over the doorway of the stall and the big horse inside huffed air next to Taige's face, gently lipping the epaulette on Taige's shoulder. Ruefully, still holding his side, he reached up and patted the horse's neck. “Don't worry, zhiiya. I'll get that back of yours cared for...”

As fate would have it, the opportunity arrived faster than Taige expected. He had located the commissary. Standing out side the building at a window where orders could be place, Taige leaned against the wall, silently rubbing his ribcage. He straightened, dropping his arm, when a soldier appeared at the window.

“What can I get you, Corp?”

“Would you happen to have any beeswax?” Taige asked.

“Beeswax?” The soldier mused, thinking hard. “I know I have candle wax, don't know about beeswax. Let me go take a look.” He disappeared. 

Taige sighed, glancing around the bustling compound. Bending slightly, he placed a hand on his knee while his other hand crept back under his jacket. Damn if that sucker punch hadn't have packed too much kick. He was going to have one hell of a bruise.

“Corporal?” A familiar voice asked.

Taige turned. Sergeant Major Benjamin and the Colonel paused in whatever pursuit they were on, looking at him curiously.

Taige winced when he saluted.

“As you were...” Miles said raising an eyebrow over the top of his old snow glasses. Taige had noticed he wore them, no doubt against the Ishvallan sun. “Have you been injured?”

About to open his mouth to reply, Taige caught sight of Bryant appearing around an out building, sauntered over their way. He was smiling at Taige and tapping at his pocket. Taige looked at Miles.

“One of the horses kneed me in the ribs. Caught me off guard. It was my fault, sir. She's in pain. I'd found she's got a fevered back and open sores. The draft horses also have sores from their harnesses. Two of the others also have fevered backs and the other one just need to be retired, he's too old. I'm assuming the garrison hasn't got a veterinarian yet?”

Miles looked at him more intently. 

“Seriously?” Benji asked. 

“They did seem a sad lot,” Miles murmured. “And no we don't have a vet yet.” He caught sight of Bryant who saluted him when he approached. “You're the stable master Sergeant Bryant, why haven't I been informed of the state these horses are in?”

“Just finishing up that report, sir. Will have it on your desk in d'morning. D'Corp has it right, got on d'wrong side of a tetchy creature!” He laughed convivially. “Kicked him a good one! They're a sorry bunch. Probably leftovers transitioning out of d'cavalry.”

Miles glanced at Taige. “Corporal?”

“They do need time, sir, especially the Draft horses. They need to be allowed shade and rest to get used to the heat. None of them are workable at this time.”

“You got lucky, Corporal,” the soldier at the window cried out with a grin. “Got a brick of beeswax right here.”

“Beeswax?” Benji asked.

“I can whip up a balm for the sores on the horses,” Taige said holding a hand out for the bundle. “Old family recipe.”

“Can you treat them?” Miles asked.

“Yes, sir. I can make a batch of this up tonight. Just need to get a few things in town.”

“You do that, Corporal, I think we can let you out of the Ishvallan language classes seeing's you're already fluent. That should give you time to treat them. For now you can act as temporary vet. I won't see those creatures suffer out here.” 

Miles turned towards the Sergeant. “Bryant?” 

“Yes, sir?” The stable-master responded.

“Get a crew constructing some sort of shade for them. I want that report in the morning and I'll be doing a follow up check next week.” He nodded significantly at Benji who'd see it got on Miles' calender. “You're dismissed, Sergeant.” 

Taige schooled his features carefully seeing the look of rage in Bryant's eyes as he turned and strutted away.

Miles focused his attention back to Taige.

“You need to have that seen to?” Miles asked noticing Taige's hand slipping back under his jacket.

Taige shook his head, holding up the beeswax. “This will make a balm that's good for man and horse. Considering the sad state those horses are in..." He shrugged,

"I just need to be far more careful around the barn than I normally would be.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As mentioned, I am my own beta. Any mistakes in continuity and grammar are purely mine.
> 
> Words in "Ishvalan" can be found here: Capn_hoozit's [Ishvalan Dictionary](http://sons-of-the-desert-fma.tumblr.com/post/64660673693/my-ishvalan-dictionary)
> 
> Her series can be found here: [Sons of the Desert](https://archiveofourown.org/series/178511)
> 
> This story is also complete now at 24 chapters I will be posting more as I go.

##  ****

4.

“Evening, Corp! What can we get ya?” A tall blonde with a short beard greeted when Taige entered the store. He gave Taige a quick once over and then extended a hand. “Name's Havoc, Jean Havoc, I run the place. You new in town?”

Taige could sense a hale-fellow-well-met attitude from the man and he gripped the offered hand. 

“Taige,” he replied, glancing around at the stock in the place. “And yes, I'm new in town.”

“Former 2nd Lieutenant too.” Havoc grinned past a tooth pick which seemed to be a living creature in the corner of his mouth.

“Former Warrant Officer,” Taige said and looked back at Havoc who grinned at him.

“So, the rumours are true. We'd been hearing things about a re-enlistee. Bummer they couldn't bring you back at rank. You're a rarity.”

“So I gather...” Taige replied dryly.

Havoc chuckled. “It's odd enough having Colonel Miles about but now that we got another Ishvallan soldier, maybe a few more will show up. The Fort needs you guys. When did you return?”

“Week or so ago,” Taige replied. “You got any epsom salts and some cup sized canning jars?”

“Sure thing,” Havoc said emerging from behind the counter. 

“You know the Kanda market very well?” Taige asked.

“Like the back of my hand. Moved out here when the building restarted and I never left, got married and settled in! Ah...” Jean found the canning jars. “How many?”

“Three.” 

Jean pinched three jars together and added the rings and seals. Then he headed for another section of the store. “What are you looking for, maybe I have it.”

“I need a top grade honey, some olive oil, black tea and some fresh herbs,” Taige replied offering to take the jars out of Havoc's hands.

“Oh yeah, your best bet would be the markets,” Havoc said and rattled off a couple of places he thought might work for his customer. Finding the salts he picked up a small bag and headed for the counter. “If I didn't know any better it looks to me like your making some kind of salve?”

Taige raised an eyebrow, setting the jars and seals on the counter. 

Havoc grinned. “You know I can get you some of the higher grade commercial stuff. My guess is you're working with the horses in the Fort?”

“You're very perceptive,” Taige ventured while Havoc totalled the price. “I'm mixing up a family recipe I know works,” he added. 

“Havoc General Stores aim to please! Besides I'm a country boy, grew up around livestock. Saw that lot of horses when they came in last week. They simply aren't ready for this place. You know we have another shipment coming in day after tomorrow?”

Taige looked up at him, “I hadn't been informed. How many?” He asked gruffly. Somehow he wasn't surprised. Bryant would be seeking some sort of retribution. Not being prepared would just give the Sergeant ammunition.

“Five more. They will probably be just as pitiful as the first group. Poor suckers.”

“They're retiring Cavalry horses all over Amestris, what with the tanks and fields guns replacing them.” Taige commented, counting out cenz while Havoc rang up the purchases. “The ones that are left are worn out and needing retirement.”

“My dad let me know that shipment is coming in. Is the fort needing any feed? Straw, at all?”

“We're good there,” Taige said as Jean wrapped the items up in a sheet of brown paper. “Not bad feed either, where's it coming from?”

“Got contacts in Resembool. Ever hear of the Elric Brothers?” Jean grinned.

Taige paused thinking a moment. “Name sort of rings a bell.”

“Sort of?” Jean asked, an incredulous grin on his face.

“Been a bit preoccupied the last few years. Haven't had the time to mess with the news or broadcasts. Besides, I don't own a radio.”

“Well if you ever need one, I know we either have it or can get it out on the next train.” Havoc offered, sliding the parcel over the counter top. “You ever need anything? Just let me know.”

Taige smiled slightly and nodded. “I'll do that.”

Outside he turned and headed immediately back towards the fort. Five new horses on the way and no place ready to stow them. Inside he collared the pair of privates who worked with him and headed for the barn. “Listen fellas, we got some new arrivals coming in day after next. I need five stalls prepped. Give them a good deep layer of straw. And get the water buckets filled.”

From the corner of his eye he saw one of the private's wince. Inside the barn, the pair split up, the one checking the stalls to see if they needed any further cleaning out and the other to get straw bales. Taige waited and turned to the private checking the stalls.

“Private? I'd like to ask you a simple question, and you don't have to verbally reply.”

“Sir?” The private asked warily, his shoulders immediately scrunching together.

“Is Sergeant Bryant trying to shake you down?”

The private's reaction was answer enough. Just like a spooked horse, he sucked in air, his eyes starting from his head and his face went white as a sheet.

“Don't answer that,” Taige said quietly. “You just gave it away.”

“God, sir! Please don't say anything. This posting is the only thing I've got and I need to send what little money I've managed to keep to my family. There's too many mouths to feed at home!”

“Is he extort...?” Taige started to ask then stopped. “Has he laid a finger on you?” 

The private, shuddering, nodded his head. “Punched me in the kidney. Carries a knuckleduster.”

Taige's mouth set in a grim line. “I won't say a word, private, but do you know if any others are getting the same treatment?”

Again the private nodded, looking ready to puke his guts out.

“You've my word, private, I won't say a thing, but I can tell you this. It's not going to last.”

*** 

Havoc had proved invaluable. He had given Taige the exact locations of the places he needed to buy his things. At the last stall, he bought a small bottle of high grade honey and his eye caught the flutter of little garments in the stall next door. Turning he spotted several small children's tunics. Proper Ishvallan tunics. A slight smile softened his features. Simple things really, neatly embroidered around the collars. He pulled out what was left of his advance.

“New in town are you?” The middle aged woman running the stall asked. “And a soldier!” She added as he glanced her way.

“Yes...” Taige glanced at the tunics, and idly wondered how many people were going to point out he was Ishval's newest face.

“You have children?”

“A daughter, yes, she's about this tall,” Taige's hand tapped just above his knee. “She's kind of small.”

“You'd want something this size,” The woman said, indicating some smaller tunics. Taige looked them over then picked out one in ecru with a light brown embroidery. The woman grinned at him. “Sure you don't want some with more colour? Little girls like their pinks and purples. The blues and greens are very nice too!” 

“Maybe next time, this one will do for now,” he said selecting the plainer dress. The woman nodded, and began wrapping the dress up for him. 

He glanced down at his hand, selecting out the cenz he needed and frowned at the amount that was left. He failed to notice Bryant ducking back away from the stall, keeping himself out of Taige's sight.

Handing his purchase over with an exchange of pleasantries, the woman running the stall watched him walk away. At that moment another woman, younger, with long white hair gathered back loosely at the nape of her neck emerged from the back of the store.

“That should keep you supplied now!” She said while the stall owner watched Taige leave.

“Thank you Rada, I can't seem to keep those in stock. You're embroidery is so exquisite! Oh here,” The woman counted out some of the money in her hand and handed it to Rada.

“Thank you! Who was that?” Rada asked nodding at Taige's retreating back.

“That new Ishvallan soldier. Just bought a tunic for a four year old!”

“Eh-h?” Rada lilted, smiling as Taige vanished into the crowd. “Another little one for Naisha's class!”

“So it would seem. Odd though, he picked such a bland colour. Little girls should be seen, not blending into the back ground!”

“Oh, go on with you! He bought one of your tunics, you should be happy with that!” Rada said with a laugh, nudging the other woman's shoulder with her own. She slipped out of the stall. “I need to get home, the twin's are sure to be waking up by now and Danika needs to get back to class!”

The two women bade goodbye. “I'll bring a new batch of clothes next week!” Rada called back as she left.

Bryant, still ducked in the shadows between the honey-seller and clothes' merchant's stall, smiled to himself. “Gotcha yer bastard!” He murmured in glee and slipped away.

***

If there was one thing Miles learned early on in his marriage, it was the fact that his wife loved the aroma of his cologne. He was particular about being clean and presentable, his care for his clothes –especially his uniform-- notwithstanding. The biggest give away about his new wife's inclination had been when he was called out late one night while still stationed at Briggs. He found her curled in a ball on his side of the bed, wearing one of his white button down shirts, her face tucked just under the first button and sound asleep.

In Ishval it wasn't any different. Only this time she wasn't tucked in and asleep. He smiled when she returned from their kitchen to the bedroom, wearing his shirt loose over one of the lingerie pieces he had bought before they had left Ishval, a deep emerald satin negligée. His smile grew a little more amused recalling her reaction at having worn it the first time. 

She had wondered out loud how any woman could wear such a risqué thing and he then spent a bit of time convincing her it wasn't supposed to be worn that long.

His mission had been quite successful.

She held a small glass of halmi mixed with orange juice and held it out to him, seeing the look on his face. As he rolled over to take it and knock some back, she sat on the edge of the bed and slipped out of his shirt. Both weren't the type to indulge in drinking, but an occasional nightcap didn't go amiss. Taking the glass from him, she sipped at it before setting it aside then lowered the flame in their lantern.

Vesya turned back and studied his features. With this kind of intimacy, she was probably the only other person in existence who ever saw Miles with his hair not pulled severely back from his face. Loosed from its restraint his hair actually fell between his chin and his shoulders.

She slid under their light coverlet and let him pull her into his arms. The light from the kerosene lamp being the only illumination in the room; warm and soft. 

“You have that look on your face,” she murmured, settling her head on his shoulder, then reaching up to tuck his hair back behind his ear.

“And that would be?” He felt the back of her finger stroke the spike of his sideburn. She just smiled at him. He gave a soft snort of amusement.

Rubbing her shoulder, he idly fingered the fabric of her negligée, watching the play of light between her silvery hair and the deep green satin. “How'd your day go?” he asked, bussing the top of her head.

“Busy, you know how it is. The kids can be so full of energy. Then I spent the better part of the afternoon painting greenware. Damyan is swamped with orders!”

“Speaking of the kids. How's your new one settling in?”

“New one?” Vesya asked, breathing in, causing that amused smile to flicker like a moth around Miles' lips.

“Yeah, the new girl. My new Corporal's daughter?” Miles asked.

Vesya pursed her lips. Miles had told her the previous week that he had re-enlisted an Ishvallan soldier.

“We haven't had a new girl registered,” she said. 

Miles paused, his gaze fixing on the ceiling of their bedroom. “Nobody? Maybe she went into Stoyan's class?”

“We haven't had any new ones added lately,” Vesya felt the change in him. She tilted her head back to look at his profile. He was thinking, still staring up at the ceiling and idly rubbing a pinch of emerald satin between his fingers. 

“Miles?” she asked. 

His gaze flicked towards her, a slight crease appearing between his eyebrows. “Something isn't quite what it should be,” he said seeing the question in her face. “Taige told me he had a daughter. His only surviving kin.”

“Didn't you mention he was from Lejia?”

“Outer Lejia, quite a way's out.”

“If there's no family, who's watching his daughter?”

“Haven't the faintest idea. Why the hell hasn't he got her in school yet?”

Vesya just looked at him raising an eyebrow for the question still in her eyes. 

Miles glanced at her and sighed. Was it really any of his business? Still it was rather puzzling. For Miles, puzzles needed answers. Answers he was very good at finding. “She can't be that old...” he murmured, his hand running up along Vesya's shoulder. 

Vesya reached out a finger to the other side of his chin and turned his head back towards her.

There was a completely different question in her eyes. 

Miles smirked, his finger slipping under the satin shoulder strap, and he decided he needed to go on another mission.

***

That night, having made the long walk back to his home site, Taige saw to his and Veela's dinner, then began working on the balm. At his campfire, he melted the beeswax in an old coffee pot, to which he added the olive oil and honey. In another pan he brought water to boil, dissolving some of the epsom salts, and began adding several different types of herbs and the tea. A delicious aroma filled the air.

Veela, all cleaned up for the night, emerged from the tent wearing the new tunic, sans the horsehair tie. In her hand was a black comb.

He glanced at her as she approached. “That time is it, laleh?” he asked with a smirk. “You like your new dress?”

Veela just crinkled her nose at him with a grin on her face and bobbed her head of curls.

He snorted softly, winced a moment at the pain in his side, then reached up and tugged lose the horsehair band he used to club his hair with. Thick, silver-white, hair flowed down to the middle of his back. Veela moved behind him and, with pain staking care, began to comb it.

Letting out a sigh, Taige used a stick to pull the pot of herb concoction off the fire. He allowed it to cool, while he tipped his head back and let the tiny girl work on his hair. It was their night time ritual before she went to bed. 

With a folded piece of gauze over the pot of bubbling beeswax he carefully poured the herb mixture over it, letting the infusion drain into the wax. Twisting the gauze into a tight ball he squeezed the mixture out, then set it aside to stir the lot all together. Nearby sat the small jars he'd bought. He filled them and allowed everything to cool down and congeal into the balm he needed.

Veela, gently combed, running it the entire length of his head down his back but when she reached the one side he let out a hiss when she ran the comb over the bruise. He clutched her hand reflexively, stopping her and she gasped, her eyes widening.

“It's okay, laleh!” He reassured, gently pulling her around to face him, taking the comb from her hand. He smiled. “Your papa got on the wrong side of someone.” He let out an audible grunt when he leaned to one side and pulled his black t-shirt out of where it was tucked into his uniform pants. Veela let out another gasp, as he looked down at what was turning into a deeply purple bruise. He reached for one of the jars and looked at her. Tears were forming in his little girl's eyes.

“I'm okay, pet, just sore,” he murmured. “Help your papa out?” He scooped a bit of the still warm salve on his fingers and gently began massaging it onto the bruise where he could reach. “Rub that in where papa can't get to,” he said. She obliged, gently pressing the salve in and rubbing. He grit his teeth, unwilling to show her any pain on his part while tears rolled silently down her cheeks. 

He tugged the shirt off, letting her reach the bruised areas on his back. He finished sealing off the salves, then he pulled her back around. “Smells good doesn't it?” he said rubbing her hands in his, distributing any remaining salve. “That's help with the bruise and soften up your hands too. Smell the mint and lavender in it?” He wiped the tears off her cheeks and smiled. Her nose crinkled as she breathed in the aroma of the salve. She looked at him solemnly. 

“Bank the fire, pet?” he asked. 

She nodded and turned.

Taige went into the tent and changed into a pair of old faded, loose linen pants that served as his night wear. For a moment he cleaned up his uniform which hung from a nail set in one of the tent poles. Once that was settled, he came back out, looking for all the world like some sort of heathen in bare feet and his hair loosed. Taige reached down, carefully picking Veela up and perching her on his good hip, before turning towards where the sun had long set.

He led their simply prayer this time, murmuring the words softly. She whispered her own little thanks before twisting in his arms and reaching up with one hand to pat at his cheek. He gripped it gently, kissing her fingers then set her down. “Bed,” he ordered and she heaved a sigh, but she turned and obeyed. 

She curled in a little ball on a blanket next to his and faced him. Taige settled gingerly on his bed roll laying on his injured side to keep it stable and relatively pain free. He propped his head up with a fist. With his other hand he let her grip his finger and began telling her a story of the ancient times, when Ishval still had princes and the beautiful horses they rode. 

Big, long legged creatures with noble heads whose coats shone in the sun like newly minted money. Metallic golds, silvers, and coppers. Wahiran Istiqan's! Horses worthy only for royalty... His low gruff voice, soothing and calm, lulled the little girl to sleep. He smiled fondly at her, her eyes closed and her index knuckle pressed between her lips. He toyed with a white ringlet, watching her sleep a moment before he finally sighed and eased himself over onto his back.

He listened to the night sounds. Hoping the music of the crickets, and frogs, the underlying roar of the river below them with the occasional night birds would help lull him to sleep. As their tiny home settled for the night a chorus of jackels broke up the lull and Taige's troubled thoughts returned to the fort, its horses, and its sadistic sergeant.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N I am my own beta reader, any mistakes therefore are mine.
> 
> For words in Ishvalan please check out Capn_hoozit's [Ishvalan Dictionary](http://sons-of-the-desert-fma.tumblr.com/post/64660673693/my-ishvalan-dictionary)

****

## 5.

Taige knew they were in trouble the minute he spotted the last horse trying to get down from the train box. The animal tripped and stumbled down the ramp, sweat lathering its chest and it was trembling hard.

“Shit..!” he murmured from where he stood at one end of the boxcar. A pair of guards eyed the horses warily while two of the four privates sent to assist were latching lead ropes onto the halters of the horses already off the train. Bryant was yelling something foul mouthed and rude at a private trying to clip the lead on one of the other loose horses. All around them, soldiers and civilians, Amestrians and Ishvallans watched the spectacle going on.

Taige, holding on to a looped lead rope in his fingers, instantly began heading for the horse in distress. Alarm was building in the pit of his stomach. He could see the animal's laboured breathing. “Move please!” he urged as people began noticing the animal. Taige spotted the first sign that the horse was going down and began to rush forward, pushing people out of the way.

“Move it, move it!” Taige yelled, dropping the lead rope.

“What d' f'n hell do you think yer doing, Corporal!?” Bryant bellowed while the horse began dropping to its knees. The horse rolled over onto its side, beginning to thrash while trying to get back up. The sounds it was making froze people's blood who could hear it. Bryant intercepted Taige as he raced for the horse's head.

“Get this animal back on its feet! D'you hear me, Corp?” He blocked Taige's way seething with self imposed righteous fury. “And I mean on d' double!”

“He's never getting back up!” Taige snapped, trying to dodge around the Sergeant, who side stepped and blocked his way again. “He's dying, can't you see that?!”

“Are you disobeying a direct order!” Bryant shouted while Taige turned and looked around him frantically. 

“You bet your sweet ass I am...” Taige growled, turning.

“On your head be it, Corp.” Bryant leered suddenly, “MP's!” He shouted, “Over here!” Bryant turned and began yelling at the fourth private. “What are you standing around gawpin' for? Get this animal on its feet, now!”

While the two MP's warily approached, Taige turned and faced the closest one.

“Give me your rifle,” he snapped, holding out his hand. “Shehai li Ishvala!” he snarled at the man, “Let me put that creature down!”

The MP's eyes diverted to the horrific site of the struggling, thrashing horse, its side working like bellows, literally dying to get up. The sound it was making was the stuff of nightmares.

Taige lost his patience.

The MP suddenly felt himself being jerked around. Knowing the silent standing order that weapons were not to be loaded out side of the Fort, Taige's hand slapped the lid loose on the snapped ammunition pack at the soldier's back. He grabbed several bullets out of it, some spilling onto the ground. With a rough jerk, the rifle was off yanked off the MP's shoulder and Taige began rapidly sliding bullets into it as he began striding back towards the horse.

The entire compound was now fully in an uproar when Taige, ignoring the yells around him, felt someone grab his arm. He twisted free and chambered the first round. He wrapped the strap around his arm and threw the rifle up to his shoulder aimed and fired.

The gunshot echoed loudly through the rail yard.

Everyone froze.

Taige let out a pent up gasp of anguish as he chambered a second round and lifted the rifle back up. 

His job, however, was done.

The horse lay silent, only twitching now, with foam and blood flecks spattering its chest and the ground. With a savage snarl Taige flung the rifle aside, dropping to his knees at the horse's neck. A roar of anguish escaped from him when he placed his hand on the eye of the horse and its neck. Just behind the eye, one neat bullet hole trickled blood between his hands. He never noticed how deathly quiet it had got, with the exception of the commotion the other horses were making.

The agony that was beginning to escape his throat again was abruptly cut short when Bryant caught him in nearly the same previous spot with the brass knuckles. Taige fell over, twisting slightly to avoid the horse's head. Somebody was yelling at him, Bryant he imagined, and he could feel a hard booted foot connecting repeated with his ribcage. He tried to roll away, swinging his leg around to trip up and unbalanced Bryant. The Sergeant crashed awkwardly to the ground next to him.

Taige tried to roll away, back towards the horse, while chaos erupted all around them.

His last conscience vision was of Sergeant Major Benjamin, pushing Bryant out of the way, a look of cold fury on his face. Benji stooped to pick up the discarded rifle when the other MP loomed up in Taige's peripheral vision. Everything suddenly flashed brilliant white and Taige collapsed next to the dead horse.

He remembered nothing more.

***

A deep dull throbbing pain in his head was the next thing Taige recalled. 

His vision slowly swam into focus. What he saw made him pull back slightly and he heard himself wince out loud in pain. 

The person before him was aged with dark hair greying at the temples. The deeply tanned face was disfigured. One eye, white and milky, was almost hidden by folds of flesh. The other was keenly sharp, intelligent, and watching him with professional care and concern. A rueful smile played on the lips of the stranger.

“Easy there, soldier.” A firm hand held his shoulder down. “My name is Doctor Marcoh, try not to sit up.” 

Taige slowly became aware he was laid out flat on a cot. Just behind his head a single kerosene lamp hung from the inside of a large tent. He heard the sound of a metallic instrument dropping into a porcelain dish with liquid in it.

“Here,” the doctor said and Taige felt the man set a folded up damp cloth on the site of the throbbing just above his left eye.

“Ahh!” Taige gasped out loud, his eyes clamping shut at the pain. 

“Try to just lie still, Corporal.” Marcoh said “I won't have my needle work pulled out.”

“Needle work?” Taige asked, his thoughts not quite catching up.

“Stitches. I just put in five of them. You've got a hell of a knot forming up there. And the black eye you'll be getting is going to be spectacular,” Marcoh added ruefully.

Memory began to return. 

“Ahhh, son of a bitch!” Taige breathed out, blinking up at the ceiling. He glanced at Marcoh, who was beginning to put his instruments away in a leather carry-all. 

“Are you feeling nauseous at all? Dizzy?” Marcoh asked.

“No...” Taige grunted, glancing at the doctor. It was then Taige became aware of another presence in the tent.

“Then it stands to reason you can answer a few questions,” Sergeant Major Benjamin said appearing from behind the doctor. His voice was decidedly not welcoming.

“Ah hell,” Taige breathed out, closing his eyes again, his stomach suddenly twisted into a knot. 

“Ah hell is right, Corporal. Did you lose your freaking mind?” Benji demanded. He stepped around to Taige's field of view on his right.

“Not now with the dressing down,” Marcoh said firmly. “I'm still not certain about the extent of his concussion.” The doctor looked down at him. “How's your vision? Blurred at all?”

“I'm beginning to see things a bit too clearly...” Taige rumbled, his gaze fixed on Benjamin.

“Oh, I'm not so sure about that, Corporal,” the Sergeant Major replied grimly. “Besides the insubordination, disobeying a superior, striking a superior, dereliction of duty. I can add disarming an MP, and firing a fucking rifle in public amongst private citizens. Half of whom were Ishvallans!”

Benjamin's glare remained fixed on Taige.

“How about adding a cherry on top of the works? Destruction of military property in shooting a horse, dead, in front of God and all the neighbours! Care for me to go on? Do you really see clearly, Corporal, the public relations nightmare you just unleashed _in this country?_ ”

Taige kept quiet, gazing balefully up at Benjamin. What could he possibly say?

“Sergeant Bryant has laid a lengthy list of accusations against you as long as my arm. Seems he's been reluctant to present us with them as he's trying to take in that your Ishvallan, but after this incident he decided to bring it all up.”

“I'm sure he did,” Taige muttered.

Benjamin's eyes widened as the ire began to rise inside of him. “Do you even begin to realize how deep the shit is you're in right now, Corporal?” he grated out. 

“Apparently you're about to tell me,” Taige replied. 

He decided he needed to sit up for this. Taking a deep breath, he swung his legs over the side of the cot and tried to rise.

The pain that hit, nearly dropped him back flat on the cot. 

“Dammit!” he hissed, grabbing at his ribcage, his eyes clamped shut as he rode out the wave of pain. He felt a hand on his shoulder and another pulling his t-shirt up.

“Nobody mentioned this!” He heard Marcoh snap.

“Shit!” Benjamin muttered as Marcoh eased Taige into a more upright position. 

“What the hell...” Marcoh exclaimed, “did one of those horses kick you?” 

“I know Bryant landed a few kicks before that MP subdued him,” Benjamin said.

Marcoh shook his head. He began to feel for broken ribs and his face grew more sombre when Taige flinched, gasping out loud. “Well there's a couple of cracked ribs for you. Have you been seeing blood in your urine?”

“No,” Taige gritted, letting the doctor do his job. 

“Any burning at all, shortness of breath?”

“No...”

“Some of this bruising is older, when did that happen?”

“Couple of days ago.”

Marcoh heaved a sigh and turned to his leather case. “I wasn't prepared for this,” He stood up straight and glanced over Taige's left shoulder. “I need to run over to the hospital a moment.”

Taige frowned, glancing up at the doctor and seeing his attention was away from Benjamin. “Oh shit...” he breathed and looked towards the far corner of the tent.

Colonel Miles was sitting in a metal chair, his legs crossed, hands rested in his lap. The picture of perfect calm. An absolutely cold mask was settled on his features.

“Tell me something, Corporal Taige,” He asked slowly, evenly, his red eyes boring straight into Taige's own. “Did I make a colossal mistake in letting you re-enlist?”

Taige's shoulders slumped and he sighed, his head dropping. He reached up and ran a hand down his face, finger tips brushing the lump and stitches over his left temple. He noticed the dried blood that had crusted on him.

“I don't normally misjudge a person's character, but I am beginning to believe that I did in regards to you.” Miles went on calmly. “Maybe it was because I wanted to see a brother Ishvallan make a success of himself and I let sentimentality cloud my judgement. Please tell me, Corporal, what do you think it is?”

Taige didn't reply. He'd been through verbal reprimands before. Even verbal abuse in some cases, but what was coming out of the Colonel was worse. He couldn't answer in the face of this kind of questioning. He grimaced, setting his hands on his knees, letting Marcoh exam his side. He jerked every time Marcoh's had hit a tender spot.

“Lay back, soldier,” Marcoh urged shooting a warning glance at Miles. “Actually, just lay on you side, I want to take a better look at this mess.” He pulled up Taige's shirt, helping him get it off. With a grunt of pain, he laid back over on his good side.

“God help us, its worse in the light,” Marcoh muttered. 

Taige just sighed, glancing at Miles, who was looking at him with a slight frown on his face. He abruptly stood up.

“Wait a minute, Marcoh,” the Colonel said, stepping closer. He stepped around behind Taige who was frowning. The atmosphere became deathly still.

“Sir?” Benjamin asked.

“Marcoh, are you seeing this?” Miles asked indicating something on Taige. “Does that look like something a horse would do?”

“No, that's more...” Marcoh stood up straight, then looked down at his patient. He stopped speaking when Miles came back around the cot. He hove into Taige's view. That coldness emanating from him even more pronounced. He looked at Marcoh.

“What happens in this tent stays here, am I clear on that.” He said to them all.

“Sir,” Benjamin murmured.

Marcoh, looking both disgusted and resigned nodded his head. Miles looked back sternly at Taige.

“I'm going to ask you a couple of questions, Corporal, and I am ordering you to answer them. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I've seen this kind of bruising before. Hell, I've inflicted this kind of bruising before. I know what kind of instrument leaves that type of mark on a body. I also know that I am the only person in this Fort, the only person in Ishval for that matter, who happens to own what makes that kind of injury.” Miles' ire was slipping into his voice. “I want to know who has punched you with a set of chucks, and I won't stand for any prevaricating on this, do you understand?” 

“Sir,” Taige muttered.

Miles leaned over, one red eyed glare meeting another, not bothering to hide the menace. “Well?”

Taige paused, drew in a breath and let it out slowly. “Sergeant Bryant sir. He's been shaking down the private's. And he's been trying to do it to me.” Taige shot a rueful glance at Benjamin. “Hasn't been too successful at it, until now. That's why he had such a long list of grievances to add to my _list._ ”

Taige paused a moment then added. “Haven't you been the least bit suspicious that he shows up any time you get anywhere near me or certain of the privates in the Fort?”

Miles stood still for a moment then turned away. A stream of impressively fluent Ishvallan curses burst from him. He looked over at Benjamin. “I told you Bryant's record seemed a bit too clean, didn't I?”

“Yes sir, you did.”

Miles glowered down at Taige. “What happened at the rail yard?” 

“I saw that poor beast was in distress, sir. The minute it came out of box. When I saw it stumble on the ramp I realized he was dying. It was the heat, the stress of the journey, and age. If I hadn't of put him out of his misery, he would have literally died trying to obey our orders. They're trained to obey. To the death. All I can say is that I gave what little mercy there was left to him.”

Miles shook his head, looking away a moment. 

“You mentioned having to pull Bryant away from him?” He glanced at Benjamin.

“Yes sir. I saw Bryant slug him, then started kicking him. Said he was trying to subdue the Corporal for what all occurred.”

“Dear God!” Marcoh muttered, rolling his eyes and turning away. “I need to go over the hospital and get a few things I didn't pack. I wasn't expecting broken ribs on top of a concussion.”

“All right Tim, just remember what I asked.” Miles said. 

Marcoh nodded and left. 

Miles turned back to look down at Taige. “You weren't kicked by a horse that day we ran into one another at the commissary were you?”

“No sir,”

“Corporal...” Miles sighed, running a hand down his face. “Don't ever hide information from me ever again. Are we clear?”

“As a bell.” 

“I need to get those knucks off him,” Miles muttered.

“He'll be damned sure not to have them on his person right now...” Taige muttered, feeling the pounding in his skull.

“I'm aware of that!” Miles snapped then added coldly, “I've dealt with his type before. Why the hell didn't you say something sooner?”

Taige was about to reply when all three heard the unmistakable sound of a local rooster proclaiming the start of its day.

Miles was preparing to ask another question when he saw Taige's face go startlingly pale.

“Oh God!” He breathed out in horror, shoving himself upright, trying to fight the pain he was in. “I've got to get home!”

“You're not going anywhere, Corporal,” Benjamin declared.

Taige was struggling to stand. “I've got to get home!” he urged. “My girl, my little girl!” He looked from Benjamin to Miles. 

“Corporal, you aren't leaving this Fort. You're under arrest. Technically you're in the stockade.” Benjamin replied looking around the tent.

Taige looked at Miles, who was getting a decidedly dangerous look on his face.

“About that...” Miles said. 

“For the love of Ishvalla, Colonel, I need to get home! She's been out there all night. I always come home before dark. I need to go get her!”

“Which begs a question, Corporal,” Miles snapped. “What the hell are you leaving her out there all alone in the first place?!” 

He threw his hands up, shaking his head in disbelief then glared at Taige. “I was beginning to wonder of if you've been trying to pull a fast one over on me as to whether or not you even have a child! She's never been registered at the school. Now I'm beginning to believe that not only did I underestimate you, I'm beginning to think you're a colossal idiot!”

Taige clenched his jaw, trying to bite back any retort he was about to make. With effort he replied, “Veela's perfectly fine on her own during the day, but I am always, always home by nightfall! I need to get home,” Taige started to get to his feet.

“Sit. Back. Down!” Miles barked at him. “You're not leaving this tent until I say you can.”

“That's my child out there!” Taige snapped.

“You should have thought about that before leaving her out there to begin with! Son of a bitch, Corporal! Why the hell didn't you put her in school? How could you do that?” Miles demanded.

“I know _exactly_ what my daughter needs and right now she can't face school!” Taige shot back, shooting a glare towards the Colonel. He sucked in air, looking about in frustration. “I need to go get her!”

“Absolutely out of the question,” Miles stated flatly, reining in his ire. He looked at Taige, barely hiding his contempt. “Somebody will go out and get her for us. You're staying put until I decide whether to court-martial you, decommission you, or both.” He turned away, running a hand down his face. “Shehai li Ishvalla! What a stinking mess this has become!” 

“You'll never find her,” Taige said flatly, glaring back up at the Colonel.

Miles frowned, glancing back at Taige. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he demanded.

“Exactly what I said. You will never get her. She'll know the minute she sees you that I am not there and she will run. You won't be able to find her after that.” Taige growled. “She will only come to me.”

“Oh you think so?” Miles rounded on him, hearing the challenge in Taige's voice. 

“I know so.” Taige replied, his eyes meeting the Colonel's. “You're a former Briggs Bear. You've learned survival training.”

“Then you should damn well know that if I set out to find a little girl out there, I will succeed.” Miles replied flatly.

“Only I've been training her to survive out there since she learned how to walk. She's smaller, faster and knows how to blend in. She won't come to you!”

“Why would you go and do something like that to a child for?” Miles nearly exploded, struggling to keep his normal calm manner in check.

“She was taken from me!” Taige snapped, loosing his patience. “In Victoria. It took me three days to find her and when I did....” He abruptly stopped, fleeting visions of horror flashed across his face. “They were child traffickers,” he growled. “I swore after that I would train her to flee and hide if any stranger came near her again without me being around. I guarantee it, you will not find her! I need to go out there and get her.”

An impasse was hit, silence fell in the tent as Miles looked down at Taige with ire and disgust warring behind his scarlet eyes. 

“I'll find her, Corporal. Mark my word. You are confined to this tent until I say so.” Miles terminated their conversation with a coldness not unlike Briggs on a dark winter's day. He glanced at Benjamin and jerked his head at the tent flap. 

The two departed, blowing past the two MP's on guard, with Miles' barely contained frustration spurring him into a fast walk across the compound. 

“Sir?” Benjamin asked. “What are you going to do?”

“What do you think? I'm going to go out there and get that child. Only I'm going to take someone who I know can help me find her.”

“And that would be?” Benjamin asked, suspecting the answer.

“Our one and only khorovor,” Miles muttered darkly. “He's gonna love me waking him up at this hour of the morning...”

Alone in the tent, Taige looked around in frustration before finally leaning over, his forearms resting on his knees, with his fingers clenched, he rested his forehead against them and muttered, “Dear God, Veela, what have I done?”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N I am my own beta reader, any mistakes therefore are mine.
> 
> For words in Ishvalan please check out Capn_hoozit's [Ishvalan Dictionary](http://sons-of-the-desert-fma.tumblr.com/post/64660673693/my-ishvalan-dictionary)

****

## 6.

It never ceased to amaze Rada how light a sleeper her husband could be.

The sharp rapping on their front door barely registered in her brain before she felt Scar sit up and twist, dropping his feet to the floor. They were both fairly well attuned to the sound of their home and their three children. They took turns to see who would check on them, but a rapping on the front door at this hour of the night? That was far more than unusual.

Rada frowned, sitting up and pulling her long hair away from her face. “Andakar?” She murmured as he drew on a pair of loose cotton pants.

“I'll get it,” He grumbled, tying the drawstring, and was already leaving their room by the time she got to her feet. She tugged on a long light robe then leaned over and lit their lamp. Snatching it up she hurried after him.

Miles was about to reach up and knock again when the door was abruptly jerked opened and he looked up into Scar's face. He was greeted by the sight of an unkempt Scar, who's hair was naturally in disarray on top, but with the pony tail loosed he looked more intimidating than normal. That and the fact he was still the biggest Ishvallan around. The tattoos that covered his arms only added to his menace.

His formidable glare met Miles for waking him up at oh dark thirty in the morning.

“Brother?” Scar growled, an eyebrow rising in question. Rada came up behind him, peering around his arm, concern written all over her features. The lantern she held illuminating their living room.

“Miles?” She gasped, “What is it?”

“I've got a situation,” Miles said.

“Does this have anything to do with the incident at the rail yard this morning?” Scar asked, feeling Rada tug on his arm. He frowned slightly then glanced at Miles. He abruptly stepped back, inviting Miles into the house.

“Partially,” Miles said stepping over the threshold, letting Scar shut the door.

“I know I asked you to keep me informed on what was going on, but at this hour?” Scar rumbled.

“Papa?” A sleepy girl's voice asked from down their hallway. 

“It's all right Danika, go back to bed.” He said calmly, studying Miles. The Colonel was still in full uniform and obviously had not been home yet.

“I'll get her...” Rada murmured setting the lamp on a nearby table and hurrying down the hall.

“Sorry to wake you all up at this hour, but I need your help.” Miles said waiting for Rada to usher Danika back into her room. 

Scar frowned slightly, sensing not all was well. “What's happened?”

“Besides possibly making the biggest mistake of my career in re-enlisting that Ishvallan soldier? I just found out he's been leaving his daughter alone out in the outer districts of Lejia since he got here, nearly --what-- two weeks ago?”

“His daughter?” Scar murmured, thinking hard. “How old is she?”

“I don't know, all I know is that he never got her signed up for school, and he's been leaving her out there all day by herself. He's under arrest in the Fort's stockade and I can't let him out to go get her.”

“Why are you here telling me this?” Scar came to the point. “Why not just send a couple of your men to go get her?”

“I would, but there's a hitch.”

Scar sighed, his face growing grim. “There always is.”

“From what he's telling me, he's trained her to hide herself when any strangers come around. Apparently she'd been taken from him before. Child traffickers in Victoria. He swears she won't come to strangers...”

“Child traffickers?” Rada gasped, appearing out from behind Scar again. “Oh God...” She breathed, looking at Scar in horror. Something in Rada's expression caught Scar's eyes.

“Rada?” 

“I know of them. They're unspeakable monsters...” She breathed, and the alarm built in her eyes. “They hunted the slums and refugee camps for orphans and unattended children. You have to go find her!” She looked up at her husband. “I saw him at Lita's stall when I was dropping off tunics to her. He bought one for a four year old.”

“Oh sweet Ishvalla!” Miles groaned, running a hand down his face “This is just getting better and better by the second.”

“He's leaving a four year old out there? By herself?” Scar asked, looking accusingly at Miles.

“A four year old he swears can out hide a Brigg's Bear...” Miles retorted. 

Scar let out a snort.

“That's exactly what I thought. You see the situation now?”

“Unfortunately,” Scar said, sighing. “Give me a few minutes, brother, and I'll be with you.”

“I've got Benji warming up the Armstrong car, meet me up behind Havoc's Store. I need to let Vesya know what's going on.” Miles said, turning for the door. “Let's just hope this doesn't turn out to be a wild goose chase.” He promptly left the house.

“Let me get a few things you might need...” Rada said as Scar began running his hands through the long white hair at the back of his head, pulling it taught.

“How can someone leave a child out there alone?” He muttered, searching for something to tie his hair back.

“Sometimes dear, you go to extreme measures to protect your children.” Rada said disappearing down the hall to the bedroom where the twins slept. “I know I had to.”

Scar grimaced. Rada was speaking from experience. Her life before returning to Ishval with Danika having been her own particular hell on earth. He also knew exactly what he would do to protect his own.

Minutes later he slipped into the front seat of the warmed up car given them by the Armstrong family after the fateful Promised Day. That now seemed like an eternity ago. He'd pulled on a long sleeved tunic, and carried a small bundle of children's clothes and some food. Miles instantly released the clutch and began driving through the darked outer access road leading out of the city.

“So what did happen?” Scar finally asked when Miles had negotiated past the fringes of Ishval proper and reached the open track.

“Without the Fort's internal struggles? Corporal Taige, our Ishvallan re-enlistee, saw fit to disarm an MP and shoot a dying horse at the rail yard.”

“Internal struggles?” Scar asked, an eyebrow rising in curiosity.

“Nothing I haven't handled before. What I'm trying to ferret out now is the facts from the fiction. Then I can determine whether or not I discipline, court martial, or decommission this guy. Or all three.” Miles said ruefully. “I'm tempted for all three.”

Scar just looked as him. 

Miles heaved a sigh. “Yeah I know. It's only because I'm really pissed off right now.”

“You're not one to act in haste, brother,” Scar rumbled, folding his arms and settling back in the seat.

“I just can't seem to get past the idea of this guy leaving a four year old out there by herself.”

“He obviously thinks he has good reason too.” Scar said, thoughtfully pausing a moment, then he added, “I'd teach my children what to do if child traffickers were around.”

Miles huffed, “I'd do more than that.”

Scar just looked at him, saying nothing. Miles could almost feel the disapproval coming off of him.

“All right, I'll give him the benefit of the doubt.”

“Do you even know where he's been staying?” Scar asked.

“Roughly,” Miles said, “I took a quick look through the listings for home sites for Lejia. He's practically the only one. That area had been mortared pretty bad at the start of the war. He selected a holding at the furthest reaches of the district. It's out there.”

Scar looked at Miles again.

“Taige's been walking to and from the place to report for duty every day he's on the roster. Never has been late.”

Miles glanced at his companion, seeing the thoughtful look on his face. “I've had no reason to believe anything was wrong with this guy up until today. His previous records have no issues in them.”

“There may not be anything wrong with him,” Scar muttered. “You mentioned internal struggles. There seems to be more influence on this situation than you are letting on.”

“And how.” Miles grumbled, downshifting as the car bucked through ruts in the dirt track. Getting the car back onto more level ground Miles added, “I'm just wondering now how this child is going to react.”

“With fear.”

“Which is always a big help,” Miles replied darkly. “Look at us. I'm six foot, you're what?” Miles waved a hand, “Six foot five and still going?”

Scar just glowered. “If she's anything like Danika was, she'll be terrified. We just have to be very careful.”

“From your lips to God's ear...” Miles muttered concentrating on the road ahead.

It took nearly an hour to reach the furthest stretches of Lejia. The track not exactly cooperative for being driven on. Miles pointed out the unexploded ordinance signs marking the end of where homes had once been. He slowed down even further and killed the headlights. Several more minutes passed as they crept along, when Scar told him to stop.

“There,” he said. “In that copse of trees. Over to the right. Can you see it?”

Miles stopped the car, shutting down the engine and peered through the wind shield. “Faint red glow?”

“Banked campfire.”

“Gotta be it.” Miles said and climbed out of the car. He shucked off his uniform coat and tossed it inside. His shoulder holster and service weapon followed, which he stashed in the glove box.

For a few moments they stood and waited, listening intently as their eyes adjusted to the dark. A host of stars bejewelled the early morning sky so close that one could almost reach out and touch them. The soft rushing of the Halik greeted their ears.

“She's heard us...” Scar murmured. 

Miles nodded. “No sound out here but the crickets we haven't disturbed.”

Scar nodded. “No birds, no jackals...” He paused then set out straight for the campsite.

Miles followed, noticing how silent Scar could still move, despite having not been on the run for a couple of years now. He himself hadn't been on this kind of endeavour in many years, least of all in Ishval. 

Reaching the site they found about as abstemious an existence as one could get away with. Scar gazed down at the embers of the fire, then glanced around the tidy site, spying the bag of food suspended from the branches of a nearby tree. His face, grim as usual, was even more inscrutable.

Miles ducked into the tent. He spotted a small pile of folded clothes and the bedroll where Taige obviously slept, next to which was an even smaller one. He shook his head, was she really that small? He was also struck at the lack of possessions Taige owned. He stooped, setting his hand on the child's bed, frowning, then set his hand on the larger bedroll. 

It was warm. 

“She's been in here,” he said to Scar on emerging from the tent. “Been on her father's bedroll.”

“Security,” Scar murmured. “She heard us and bolted. Into the dry wash.” He indicated the shallow cut through the terrain running alongside the copse. “Question now is did she follow it up or did she go down?”

“We may have one advantage out here,” Miles said. “She doesn't know we're looking for her. She's just hiding from us. Maybe we can coax her out.”

“It's possible,” Scar said, not sounding wholly convinced. “On the other hand, we might be in for quite a wait.”

“She will get hungry, or thirsty, eventually,” Miles murmured.

“If we're patient, she'll reveal herself. Or the wildlife will.” Scar said. He thought a moment then glanced at Miles. “I'll go down in there.” He said nodding towards the wash. “Take the upper end. She may try to return to the tent.”

Before he set off he glanced at Miles. “Did you mention a name?”

“Veela, I think.” Miles replied, “Taige's not very forthcoming about her.”

Scar nodded then slipped his way down into the dry creek bed.

Miles sighed, glancing up the slope and searching for a likely spot to settle in.

The waiting game had begun.

***

A tightness, not unlike a vice clamp attached to his forehead, told Miles he had been up far too long. When was the last time he'd actually slept?

Miles sighed, reaching to nudge his dark glasses up his face, rubbing his eyes. He'd found a shaded vantage point where he could watch the top of the dry wash and Taige's camp in some dubious comfort. Ishvallan flies decided he was the perfect venue for a meeting of the horde. It took everything in him not to start waving them off and swearing their swarming little souls to the deepest, darkest, fiery pits of hell. 

At least not verbally.

The sun had risen more than an hour previously and the temperatures had already begun to rise. He'd sat there, listening to the change of the wildlife noises from nocturnal to day dwellers. Things had returned to normal. Or about as normal the situation could get. A sour smirk twisted his lips as he batted away a fly then scratched at his left spike of a sideburn. The stubble was going to drive him insane as well.

He'd almost kill for a shower and a shave.

Territorial and chatty cactus wrens, trading their machine gun like calls, where going about their day, ignoring him now since he hadn't moved. He scanned the areas past the dry wash and the tent site. Even a few of the long legged, rangy, jack rabbits made their cautious appearances in the early morning light, their ears constantly up and twitching, listening for the sound of predators. 

Miles heaved a sigh, tapping his glasses back into place, his thoughts straying onto the subject of who had put him in his current predicament. What the hell was going on with Taige anyway? He was distracted enough that he failed to notice a change in the behaviour of the wrens. That was when his canteen suddenly dropped into his field of vision, twisting in half circles at the end of its straps.

Miles came up off the ground as if electrocuted.

“Shit!” He spat, spinning and crouching, prepared to take on anything. He was irritated even further at the beating of his heart, giving away just how startled he'd been.

Scar stood there, a faintly amused look on his face, as he dangled the canteen from his hand. 

Miles glowered at him, stepping back from his defense stance. Scar was not only holding out his canteen, he was also armed with a set of binoculars. Miles had never even seen him go back to the car and retrieve the items.

“You're rusty,” Scar stated flatly, “and you're not paying attention.”

“You...” Miles started, shook his head at the futility of what he wanted to say and snatched the canteen from him. He heaved a disgusted sigh. “I've also been up for more than 24 hours. I'm convinced she's not heading up the wash either.”

“Veela's not down in there,” Scar said as Miles slugged the water back. “However, I've noticed a disturbance among some of the kushuku's down there.” He pointed down the hillside from the site, towards the sweeping flatlands leading to the river. The area was scattered with dry grasses, prickly pears, yuccas and dwarf acacias.

“Kushuku's?” Miles growled, running the back of his hand across his lips.

“Yol kushuku's,” Scar said, “Road runners. They don't like to fly.” He handed the binoculars to Miles. “There's a spot near a cluster of yuccas, about a third of the way down from the river's bend. The runners are disturbed by something down there.”

Miles stared levelly at his companion as he twisted the cap back onto the canteen. “She's not in the draw huh? How did she manage to slip past you?” he asked pointedly, taking the field glasses from him.

Scar shrugged.

“Who's getting rusty?” Miles retorted, lifting the binoculars. 

He adjusted the lenses, searching briefly for the cluster of bushes. His attention was caught by the abrupt appearance of a startled bird. It was speckled in grey, tawny and black feathers, the tail of which was longer than the length of its body. The bird was perched on a rock, a black crest on its head rising and falling as it looked warily towards the yuccas. A brilliant flash of blue and orange appeared behind the bird's eye then the bird suddenly burst upwards in a flutter of wings. It flapped a short ways landing on its long legs and ran into the shade of an agave where it stopped and eyed the yuccas suspiciously. 

Something moved in the sparse vegetation, nearly perfectly blended in with the surroundings. 

“There's something in there,” he murmured.

“Headed towards the river.” 

“Got to be her,” Miles said, watching the spot in question. Into his field of view several wrens glided into the surrounding plants, setting up an animated chorus of alarm. It was then, Miles got a glimpse of a tiny figure furtively slipping out of the yuccas, and creeping towards a cluster of rocks.

“There she is!” Miles announced. Without a word Scar began leading the way down. He set a quick pace, Miles not very far behind him. 

“When we get closer, we'll split up. Let's just see if we can coax her not to run. She'll be tired, scared, and thirsty.” Scar said. 

“And if she bolts like a rabbit?” Miles replied dryly.

“Pray that you can outrun her,” Scar replied back.

Miles wanted to hit him.

Reaching a certain point in their destination, the pair split apart, silently keeping themselves between the campsite and the river. If she were to run, the idea was to keep her from returning to the tent and for the river to stop her.

They slowed their pace, not rushing as the cluster of the yuccas grew nearer between them. Beyond, the ground sloped, revealing a scattering of boulders amongst stands of creosote. Miles caught site of Scar, who was holding his hand out, indicating him to stop. As they did, they disturbed the wrens.

The birds had a tendency to mob interlopers, however, considering the size of the intruders they were up against, they raised an alarmed chorus with much activity in and around the site. The men couldn't help but notice, and neither could their quarry.

To their surprise, Veela appeared from the far side of the boulder grouping. Both registered with shock just how small she really was, besides being covered in dirt and scratches. The little tunic she wore was nearly perfect camouflage with the dried grasses and rocks surrounding them. She twisted around, wide eyed with fear, and her sight fell first on Miles. She let out a gasp.

She didn't even hesitate. One look at him and she was off, racing like lightning. Only she wasn't headed for the river. She aimed parallel to it.

“Veela!” Scar shouted. “Wait!”

“Shit!” Miles exploded, “We got to stop her!”

“I'm aware of that!” Scar snapped back, “We need to be careful.”

“We can't! She's headed for the Lejia ruins...” Miles said, starting to run. “That area is full of unexploded ordinance!”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N I am my own beta reader, any mistakes therefore are mine.
> 
> For words in Ishvalan please check out Capn_hoozit's [Ishvalan Dictionary](http://sons-of-the-desert-fma.tumblr.com/post/64660673693/my-ishvalan-dictionary)

****

## 7.

Miles raced across the flats, cutting an angled path towards the fleeing child in an attempt to cut her off. Part of his brain registered with growing alarm that the red flagged stakes marking the Lejia ruins was growing uncomfortably close. He tried adjusting the angle of his run, trying to herd the little girl away from the site.

For his part, and where Miles caught an occasional glimpse of him, Scar was directly behind her leaving the river open should she switch directions. Miles could see however, that the fleeing little figure wasn't changing her mind, if anything, panic was spurring her even faster and she was aiming straight for the ruins.

Miles pushed himself into an even faster pace, he had to get to her before she reached the craters. They flashed past the boundary markers, Miles rapidly gaining on the child. He didn't dare grab for an arm, afraid the results might bring about unintended injury. Instead, he managed to get up alongside of her, turned and scooped.

As he did, his footing slipped on fine rubble, and he curled the little girl in to his chest, wrapping his arms around her for protection as he hit the ground and rolled. He was part way back onto his feet, when he suddenly found himself face to face with a struggling child. Veela, wild eyed, planted her hands in his chest, stiff arming him and arcing her body backwards. 

Her lungs filled with breath to scream.

Only nothing came out. 

She began to breath in short, sharp little gasps, staring horrified at him. Every muscle in her body tensed and she began kicking. She tried twisting out of his grip and succeeded in planting her foot hard into his ribcage.

“No no no..!” Miles gasped, feeling her slip from his arms. He tightened his grip, as she frantically tried to squirm her way out. “Calm down!” he urged, “Calm down..!”

Scar suddenly appeared, dropping to one knee in front of them. Miles saw him brace himself, drawing in a deep breath, before he reached out and slipped his hands under the girl's arms. 

“I got her...” he said calmly, pulling her to him, turning her around. Miles saw a look of distaste flash across the big man's face.

Miles abruptly sat, slapping his hand down in the dirt, panting hard for breath. He watched Veela plant her hands into Scar's chest trying to arch backwards. Her breathing was still coming in short fast gasps.

Scar shushed her, his voice a low murmur as he sat her on his bent knee, and shifted his hands. One solidly on her back and the other resting on her belly. “Deep breaths,” he said calmly, slowly. “Deep breaths. Come on, calm down. It's ok, it's ok...” She was looking at him, the terror still in her eyes and she tried again to squirm her way out of his hands. “Veela, laleh, breathe. Deep breath. Take a deep breath.”

Miles slumped, bending one knee up, watching the scenario unfolding before him. Veela was looking around agitated, muscles still tensed rigid, seeking ways to escape. 

“Come on, laleh...” Scar softly cajoled, “Breathe in deep.” His fingers tapped her belly, “Push my hand out. Deep breath.” There was a ragged catch in her breathing and she took a deeper gulp of air. “That's it,” Scar encouraged, “Do it again. Calm down.”

She looked around again, tears forming in her eyes, but she gulped another deep breath of air. Scar caught Miles' eye and with the hand on her back he pointed at the canteen. Miles slipped it from his shoulder, twisting the cap off, as Scar slid the girl closer to him. He handed it over.

Veela shook her head, trying to squirm her way out of the circle of Scar's arm, when he placed the canteen to her lips. “Come on, laleh, drink up.” Scar murmured holding her to his chest with one arm. Water spilled between them until some of it got into her. A whimper finally broke the oddly hushed scene.

“That's it, laleh,” Scar murmured encouragingly, smiling gently at her. “Calm down.”

It struck Miles then that throughout the entire encounter Veela hadn't said a thing. She hadn't even screamed.

“What the hell is going?” Miles asked quietly. Scar glanced at him, coaxing more water into the child.

“I don't know yet,” He murmured, handing the canteen back. He had definitely felt the terror and horror coming from the child as he had closed the transmutation circle his arms could form. The horror was nearly palpable, feeling like a black ooze creeping up his arms, along with a nearly overwhelming bewilderment. He had braced himself for sorrow, rage and loneliness as he had with felt from Danika, but with Veela he had sensed none. It left him perplexed. “Something terrible has happened to her.”

“Two grown strangers just ran her down...” Miles muttered. “That would be scary enough for any four year old.”

Scar nodded, focusing back on Veela. She was still looking around in the hope of finding a way to escape, an occasional hiccup escaped her. Tears were rolling silently down her face. She began trembling.

“Shhh, shhh, shhh,” Scar murmured, reaching up to push the hair out of her face. He had a half wondering look in his eyes when his fingers brushed the curls. He looked at her hands. Somehow, throughout their entire exchange, Veela had been clutching a black comb. Scar frowned again. Her grip on it showed the whites of her knuckles.

“Taige did mention the traffickers in Victoria had her for three days.” Miles remarked and the grim intensity in Scar's eyes returned. Miles started getting to his feet.

Scar sighed and shifted Veela in his arms, tilting her chin up to face him. With his thumb he wiped away a few tears collecting on her chin. “I know your frightened, Veela, but don't be scared.” He murmured. “I'm going to take you to your papa.” He looked into her frightened eyes. “I promise. I'll take you to your papa.” 

He stood up, looping his arm under her, his other hand still in the middle of her back. She remained stiff with fright, but breathing easier. Miles barely caught sight of the comb as she curled her arms in to her chest, refusing comfort and looking forlornly over Scar's arm. The dry hiccups seemed to increase and the tears still puddled in her eyes before slipping silently down her dusty face.

When she did finally speak in a voice barely above a whisper it was one word. So plaintive and lost it sent an icy needle straight into Miles' heart.

“Papa?”she asked, past a hiccup, “Papa?”

Scar close his eyes a moment, just holding her there. He was about to start making his way back to the car when Miles stopped him.

“Try and stay within my foot steps,” he said. “We're still in the uncleared area and I see three mortars around us I know haven't exploded. Stick with me and I'll get us out here.”

Scar's focus on Miles intensified and he glanced around them. The craters that marked what was left of outer Lejia were all around them. He hadn't realized how far they had got into the danger zone.

“Now let's see who's rusty,” Miles said as he began carefully picking their way out of the ruins.

***

By the time they reached the car, Veela was silently crying, hiccuping as she drew ragged breaths, her face wet with tears. She would rub at her eyes, begin to settle against Scar's chest then jerk to alertness, looking about frantically. It didn't take a big step in logic to see she was exhausted.

Neither men spoke as Miles got the car turned around and began the drive back.

Reaching a level stretch Miles finally broke the silence.

“How rare is that anyway?” He asked. 

Scar, lost in his own thoughts, glanced sidelong over the top of Veela's head. She still hadn't settled, but now her face was turned away from Miles, hidden between her fists and Scar's neck. He had been absently rubbing her back, keeping her encircled in his arms.

At Scar's raised eyebrow, Miles added. “Those curls. I've been in Ishval for a couple of years now and I haven't seen a single curly headed Ishvallan.”

“It's rare. Skips a few generations.” Scar said quietly, his fingers brushing the soft curls at the back of Veela's head. “It's going to create a bit of a stir when we get her back.”

“Speaking of that, what are we going to do with her?”

“Take her to her father,” Scar replied.

“She can't stay in the fort.” Miles said.

“I realize that, but she needs to see him. If only for a few minutes. He needs to reassure her she's going to be all right. Then I'm sure Rada won't mind if we take her in until things get sorted out at the Fort. I think a trip to see Marcoh wouldn't go amiss, either.”

Miles glanced over at him.

“She's too small, brother. And too thin.”

“Malnutrition?” Miles asked.

“More than likely. I want to know what has been going on in this little girl's life the past few years besides what might have happened in Victoria.”

“Taige was one of the soldiers decommissioned during the war. Said he was sent off to the interment camps in the West. From what I have seen though, a lot of the people, especially the men, in those camps, soldiers notwithstanding, disappeared over time. Probably victim to the homunculi's need for Philosopher Stone material.” Miles let that hang between them, both knowing the full implications. “I wonder though, how Taige managed to not get sent to the labs in Central?”

“Judging from how little possessions he owned at the home site. He lived rough.”

“He escaped from the interment camps...” Miles said quietly, focusing on the track and thinking hard.

“With a child in tow. What became of the mother?”

“He's never said.”

“A fugitive then,” Scar said and sighed. 

He was all too familiar with that kind hardship. In a twisted sort of way he'd even had to deal with having a child in his midst, Mai Chang looming in his thoughts. Mai, though, was unique, highly trained, and far older than the child shifting fretfully in his arms. He couldn't really imagine living a life on the run with a toddler. 

He grew pensive, and silent, and Miles saw the familiar set of Scar's features growing grim as his thoughts veered inwards. He presented an unsettling picture; this big, formidable, grave, man with a glare that could burn holes through anyone's head gently cradling a small raggedy child in his arms as carefully as a carton of eggs.

They were lucky, for the most part, as they reached Ishval proper by early afternoon. The track Miles followed split. One fork leading into the city and the other heading for the fort. At least they wouldn't have to deal with the general population of Ishval right away. Miles naturally steered the car towards the Fort.

Sergeant Major Benjamin met them as Miles parked the car behind HQ. He saluted, and tried not to stare too hard at the sight of Scar with Veela, nor his Colonel. Miles drew in a deep breath, realizing he was wearing a sweat stained black t-shirt, his clothes and his boots were covered in dirt and debris. Ishvalla only knew what state his hair and face was in. His frown deepened.

As Miles shut the car down he muttered, “My men are never going to believe this.” He stepped out of the car, and the look he shot his adjutant was enough to shut down any questions the Sergeant Major was about to ask.

“All's well here sir, nothing new to report.” Benji said, very studiously avoided eye contact with Miles as Scar climbed out of the vehicle, murmuring something into the ear of a very small, curly haired Ishvallan child. Wait, curly hair? Benji shook himself and fell back on protocol to avoid discretions. 

“I'll be in the stockade, Benji,” Miles said starting to stride purposely across the compound as if nothing unusual was going on. “Can you go get Marcoh for me?”

“Yes, sir.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N I am my own beta reader, any mistakes therefore are mine.
> 
> For words in Ishvalan please check out Capn_hoozit's [Ishvalan Dictionary](http://sons-of-the-desert-fma.tumblr.com/post/64660673693/my-ishvalan-dictionary)

****

## 8.

Taige sat on the cot, arms draped across his thighs, and his hands absently toying with the braided horsehair cord he used to club his hair back with. He had been utterly unable to get any kind of sleep or rest. He sat facing the tent flap, when Miles, as dishevelled as he was, ducked under the flap and stood up right. Taige looked at him somewhat disconcerted.

The Colonel looked down at him, his features stern, and he simply said. “Can out hide a Briggs Bear, huh?”

He stepped to one side and let Scar enter the tent.

Taige stared up at what had to be the biggest Ishvallan he had ever seen as Scar entered and stood up straight. He stared at the X shaped scar in the centre of the man's forehead whose face was grim. He had an intense look in his eyes. 

In his arms was Veela.

“Ahhh,” Taige exhaled in relief. “Ishvalla be praised!” He whispered, closing his eyes and sagging. He tried to stand up, and thought better of it as Veela jerked in Scar's arms, looking at him in alarm.

“See, laleh? I promised I'd bring you to your papa,” The big man rumbled, taking a step forward. He looked pointedly at Taige “And I certainly hope you meant what you just said.”

Veela suddenly twisted, then leaned, holding out her arms, a fresh set of tears starting.

She literally wrapped her arms tight around Taige's neck, holding on for dear life as he encircled his arms around her. He closed his eyes again, holding her head down, and began murmuring something in her ear. Veela's crying changed to the soft keening of an overly tired child. She buried her face in his neck . 

Taige drew in a breath, glancing up at Scar. “Thank you,” he said quietly, then glanced at Miles, “Thank you.” 

His relief was palpable.

Scar, who had folded his arms and stood waiting, nodded.

“This in Andakar Ruhad,” Miles introduced. 

Taige frowned. “The new khorovar?” he asked.

“The same.” Scar rumbled.

“I wasn't able to vote in the election, hadn't gotten registered in time as a returning refugee. You seem familiar, though...” Taige looked at him, a frown on his face. He recognized him, but didn't know how.

“Wanted posters,” Scar replied. 

Taige gazed levelly at him then nodded understanding as he realized who he was. He'd seen the posters. “Eamon Taige,” he said simply by way of introduction. “You've obviously met Veela.”

She was rubbing at her eyes, the crying softening. Taige smiled slightly, seeing the comb in her hand. He slipped it out of her grip.

“Tell me, Corporal,” Miles asked. “How old is she?”

“Six,” Taige replied, and noticed the surprise in Mile's face. “She's very small for her age.”

“Malnutrition?” Scar asked.

“Yes, part of it anyway,” Taige said. He saw the looks on both their faces. “Her mother was very petite.”

“About that?” Miles asked.

“Ahna died in childbirth,” Taige replied. “There was complications afterwards. The slums had no doctors.”

Miles reached up and ran a hand down his face, scowling irritably. “What completely escapes me Corporal is why you left her out there alone!”

“She gave you a run for your money didn't she?” Taige nodded at Miles unkempt appearance. 

“That's besides the point!”

“Traffickers are inherently lazy. They're after easy marks. Normally, she'd run circles around them.” 

He paused and looked at the Colonel levelly. 

“You couldn't go parading me through the streets of Ishval in handcuffs to go get her. Wouldn't do for what is trying to be established here. However, I knew she wouldn't stand a chance against a pair of soldiers.” 

Taige saw Mile's jaw clench, his eyes revealing his ire and a faintly offended look crossed Scar's. “I apologize, but in this situation how could I get her to me?” Taige said, hearing Veela sigh, he felt her relax.

Miles snorted his disgust. 

“ _He's_ not a soldier. _I'm_ the soldier,” Miles grated out pointing a finger at himself before jerking a thumb at Scar. “ _He's_ the priest.”

“ _Was_ a priest.” Scar rumbled. The warrior portion of his previous occupation hung between them. 

“Of course,” Taige sighed, feeling how deeply tired he was. “The difference in clothes...” He muttered. He glanced again at Miles, “I apologize, Colonel, but what else could I do?” 

To Scar's surprise, Taige reached out and took his hand, lifting it to his forehead in a gesture of respect. “Forgive me, Saahad.” 

“Zhaarad,” Scar corrected, “I left the priesthood.” He looked over at Miles, “And no apology is necessary.”

Miles put his hands on his hips, looking at Taige with his familiar frown creasing his forehead.

“Did you know Saahad Tosca?” Taige asked Scar. He stroked back Veela's curls trying to look into her face.

Scar frowned. “That name isn't familiar, I could ask Saahad Bozidar. Why?”

“He was my friend. While we were in West Amestris. I learned a lot from him.”

Something in that caught Scar's attention but he said nothing. At that moment the tent flap lifted and Marcoh appeared.

“You called for me again?” He asked looking first at Miles then at Scar, raising an eyebrow in question at the Colonel's appearance. Miles just nodded at Taige. 

Looking down, Marcoh saw the child in Taige's arms. “Oh,” he said.

“Would you mind taking a good look at her?” Scar asked, glancing at Taige for permission. “She's had a rather exhausting night.”

“Of course,” Marcoh said and sat down next to Taige on the cot. “Who have we here?”

“My daughter, Veela,” Taige said and glanced at all three men as he began to pull her arms off from around his neck. She put up a feeble protest. “I'll just warn you before hand Doctor, she has scars on her.”

Marcoh, pulling a stethoscope out of his bag, looked at Taige in alarm.

“Scars?” Miles asked sharply.

“Cigarette burns. On the softer flesh. Her arms, her legs, her...” Taige's jaw clenched, “buttocks. That's how the women keeping her from me disciplined her.”

Scars eyes just closed wearily, and Miles swore under his breath. Marcoh looked at Taige as he gently pulled his child away from him, turning her around. He looked frankly at the Doctor.

“I know she's malnourished. I've been working on that. That's part of why I decided to re-enlist. I need to get her better food. Her hair would be much longer too, but I had to have it all shaved off. She got head lice while she was with them. It's actually grown back rather fast...” He murmured and ran his hand over her head. 

Veela stared blearily at him, rubbing at her eyes until she focused on his face seeing the black eye, the lump, and stitches. Very gingerly, she reached up, barely touching the bruise above his eye. Taige could see the tears coming.

“It's okay, moppet. Papa's okay.” He murmured into her curls. Though Taige sounded far from it.

“She's very tired,” Scar said to Marcoh, seeing Miles nod his head at the tent flap.”And I have no idea when she last ate.” He looked at Taige for that one.

“We'll get it from here,” Marcoh said as the two men prepared to step out. “This won't take very long.”

Miles wasn't saying a thing when he stepped outside and ran a hand down his face. Scar simply stood there with his arms crossed while Miles sent the two MP's off for a ten minute break. Miles set up an uneasy pacing, frowning, his thoughts racing.

“Brother..?” Scar asked, watching him.

“You never get used to hearing horror stories involving children, never.” Miles growled, holding up a warning finger. “I also don't like being expertly manipulated!”

“With his current circumstances, he followed a logical step in getting his child to safety.”

“But he used me --us-- to do it!” Miles bit back. 

“Who better?” Scar asked bringing Miles up short. 

The Colonel scowled, disgusted.

“Taige is exactly as he appears; a concerned father,” Scar said.

“Is he?” Miles challenged. “As much as I disagree with the interment, it seems that a fugitive from one might have quite a bit to hide. Plus I am beginning to wonder just what happened to those people who took his child when he found her.”

“That...” Scar said quietly, “Is something for you to work on.” He shrugged, lifting his hand up. “Or not.”

Miles stopped, glaring a moment at Scar and then heaved a sigh, running a hand down his face. “Ishvala, I need some sleep!”

Marcoh slipped out from the tent. At the questioning look on their faces he shrugged. He sighed, looking weary. “He was right, there are scars there. Long term she need a better diet. Short term she needs a bath and a good nights sleep. I want to go get a mild sedative I can dissolve in water for her to take. She's still agitated enough to not drop off to sleep. I know she can't remain here so where is she going to be staying?”

“With us,” Scar said. “Would you mind leaving anything she may need with Rada? Let her know what is going on?”

Marcoh smiled and nodded, reaching up to pat Scar's arm. “Of course, I'd be happy to.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” Scar said as the man set off. He glanced at Miles again. “I better get this done and over with.” He turned towards the tent flap.

“For what its worth, thanks for helping out with...” Miles waved a vague hand. “ _This._ I need to get a few things then I'm for bed.”

Scar just nodded and they both re-entered the tent. 

Miles looked down at Taige, who had Veela perched on his knee, and just holding her in his arms. He glanced up.

“For the time being, Corporal, you're still confined here,” Miles said. “You're still in a world of shit as far as the working of this Fort is concerned.”

Taige nodded.

“Andakar has also agreed to let Veela stay with his family,” Miles added.

Taige glanced at Scar, resignation in his eyes. “Understood,” he murmured and focused his attention on his little girl.

With effort, and barely controlling the hisses of pain, Taige stood up. Veela, still in his arms, twisted around clinging to him.

“Listen to me, pet.” He murmured into her hair. “I have to stay here, okay?”

“Papa?” She quietly whimpered, as he tipped her head back to look into her eyes. “No!”

“Sh, sh, shhhh,” he reassured, “It'll be okay, moppet. Listen to me, okay, listen to me...” He held her gaze, gritting his teeth as she teared up. “Zhaarad Andakar is going to take you with him. It'll be okay. You'll be safe with him, do you understand?”

Veela shook her head, her face crumpling, “Papa? No..!”

“I'm sorry, pet.” Taige murmured into her ear and began pulling her arms away from her neck. “You'll be all right with him.”

Her silent crying began anew as Taige transferred her to Scar. She tried stiff arming him again as Taige reached up, his hand on her head.

“I'll see you soon, laleh.” he said glancing at Miles, who hadn't moved.

“Of course, you will.” Scar rumbled, rubbing Veela's back. He forced her attention on to him. “I promise, I'll bring you to see your papa.”

“No..!” Veela murmured her head dropping on Scar's shoulder as she looked imploring at her father.

“You'll be safe, pet. Trust me. Zhaarad Andakar will take good care of you. You listen to him okay?'

“Papa?” She whimpered as Taige kissed her cheek, wiping away a tear. “No..!”

“Yeo sheho de,” he murmured running his hand through her curls as Scar straightened up.

“She'll be very safe with my family. You've no need to worry. You have my word.” Scar said.

Taige nodded, then added, catching Scar's eye, “She likes to hear stories before bed.” 

He nodded and turned to go.

“Papa?” Taige heard her repeat as Scar slipped out of the tent. “No..! No..!”

Taige closed his eyes, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He sucked in a deep breath, wincing at the pain it caused then reached a hand under his hair to rub at the back of his neck. He glanced at Miles.

Miles said nothing. He just turned and ducked under the tent flap, shouldering it aside, and followed after Scar.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N I am my own beta reader, any mistakes therefore are mine.
> 
> For words in Ishvalan please check out Capn_hoozit's [Ishvalan Dictionary](http://sons-of-the-desert-fma.tumblr.com/post/64660673693/my-ishvalan-dictionary)

****

## 9.

Rada met him at the door.

“Tim was just here! He told me what was...” Rada stopped and looked at the child Scar was carrying and her hands slipped to her mouth. “Sweet Ishvalla!” she murmured. 

Veela, silent now, hung limp in Scar's arms, her face buried in the crook of his neck. Any remaining fight and protest had expired at last. She was not, however, asleep.

“Did Doctor Marcoh tell you anything about her?” Scar asked making his way down their hall to the bathroom.

“He mentioned that she was malnourished and had some scars?” Rada followed after him. He saw that she had prepared for him, the tub already filled with soap and water. Clean clothes lay nearby.

“Yes, they were inflicted as a form of discipline.” His voice held a hint of warning as he settled on a knee to the floor. He shifted Veela around.

At the sight of Rada she instantly slammed her back into his chest, a gasp escaping her. Scar had one hand on her arm and the other on her leg and he felt the wave of terror that swept through her. 

Rada, startled, saw the look that crossed her husband's face and she knew just what happened when he abruptly released his grip on Veela's leg.

“It's okay, laleh.” he quickly, gently spoke. “This is Zhaarana Rada, she won't hurt you, I promise.” Scar murmured. “Don't be scared.”

Scar glanced at his wife. “She's terrified,” he said quietly.

“Of women?” Rada asked,

“They were the ones to inflict the scars,” Scar said. “Did Marcoh leave anything for her to take?”

“Yes, it's in the kitchen. I mixed in it a glass of milk. He's worried about her diet.”

“We'll give it to her afterwards,” he said, “Let's just both do this.” He nodded his head at the tub.

“I've made up a bed in Danika's room.”

“We might be better off with just a bedroll on the floor in our room.” At the puzzled look on Rada's face he added, “It's what she's used to. She's had a rough time of it, for one so little.”

“Of course!” Rada smiled at him. “How old is she?”

“She's six.”

Rada blinked and looked sharply at him, then she looked at Veela and gave her a gentle smile. 

Veela shrunk back when Rada touched the curls falling onto her forehead. “Look at what beautiful curls, you have,” She said gently to Veela. “I bet your hungry too. Let's give you a quick bath and I'll give you something to eat, all right?” 

Scar settled back, letting the mother in Rada take over, and he watched as she worked at gaining a little bit of trust from an already scared and exhausted child. He kept one ear open, listening to the sounds his twins were making from their play area in the living room. Veela was so tired that she just trembled as Rada gave her a quick bath, looking imploringly past her to him. 

Scar had suddenly become her new rock in a very scary world. 

He smiled ruefully, even the walk from the market to their home had produced a fair amount of local excitement. Not to mention titters and giggles from behind the hands of passing woman and girls. He supposed it did look a little odd for him to be walking down the street with a strange child in his arms.

He was grateful to the Creator yet again though, at this amazing woman He had seen fit to give him as a wife. Especially to a wretch such as himself. He was also grateful for her gentle, careful, cajoling manner in dealing with a child like Veela. Before he knew it, Rada had her scrubbed clean from head to toe and she stood on their bathroom floor, engulfed in a towel.

Rada had said nothing when seeing the circular scars on her body. She glanced at her husband who had gone silent, deep in his thoughts, yet again. She selected a dress from some of Danika's smaller clothes and she quietly asked. “Does she speak, Andakar? She's awfully quiet, even for one so tired.”

“Papa and No.” Scar replied. “Those are the only words I have heard so far. And that not much more above a whisper. She didn't even scream when Miles and I had to catch her.” He briefly related what had occurred when he had been called out that very early morning, including the dash into a live ordinance field.

“It's strange, don't you think, that she's not acting out?” She asked and helped slip the dress on over Veela's head.

“I think that might be a credit to her father,” Scar snorted softly. “He manipulated Miles, and by happenstance myself, into going out and getting her.”

Rada looked at Scar in mild surprise as she ruffle dried Veela's curls with the towel. “He what?”

Scar's face softened a bit as a smirk curled one corner of his lips. “He's confined to the fort. So he challenged Miles that he couldn't find his child. Miles walked right into it.”

“Oh dear...” Rada said and smiled at Veela, who still appeared like a calf looking at a new gate.

“The Colonel was not impressed,” Scar added. He looked down at Veela.

“All right, moppet.” He said, slipping his hands under her arms and rising. He settled her on his hip. “Let's get something to eat.”

“I think I hear Mattas getting into something, knowing him.” Rada said, “Just leave this, I'll clean up here in a moment.” She went ahead of him, turning for the living room. Of their twins, Mattas was the first to begin furniture walking while Winry was still content to just crawl. It was only a matter of a very short period of time before they would have two very active toddlers running loose in their home.

Scar found the small glass of milk sitting on the counter and a dish with cheese, some fruits and flatbread slices. For a moment, he just stood there coaxing Veela to drink down the milk. She was bleary eyed. Then he gathered the plate and sat at their low kitchen table, perching her on his leg. He could hear Mattas' gleeful chortle as Rada played with him. He felt Veela shift. She had leaned into him, turning her face into his chest, before reaching up and rubbing her eye with a tiny hand. He tried coaxing her to eat, but she just shook her head, turning her face away.

“C'mon, laleh,” he murmured, “Eat a little something.” 

“Papa?” she whispered, still fighting the battle with keeping her eyes open. 

“Tomorrow, little moppet. I'll take you to see him, tomorrow.” His thoughts turned inwards again, only for a moment. 

Rada, entering the kitchen with Mattas perched on her hip, shook Scar from his reverie. She stopped, giving him a knowing smile and nodded. Glancing down he saw that Veela finally lost the battle with sleep. Her eyes were closed, she was slumped into him and she had her index knuckle tucked into the corner of her mouth.

“You just have your way with little girls don't you?” Rada said to him and smiled at the look he gave her.

“What's that supposed to mean?” He asked. 

Rada just softly laughed at him, reaching up to tickle Mattas's belly. He let out a squeal as Scar gathered Veela up and rose.

“Big scary man. Tiny little girl. Quite a juxtapostion.” Rada said, swinging Mattas down, who promptly grabbed hold of the bench and began stumbling towards his father, grinning gleefully. 

“You're a child whisperer!” She grinned again at the look he gave her. “Let me go make up a bed for her.” She stepped up, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek then peered a moment into Veela's face, running a hand through her damp curls and ringlets. She grew sombre.

“Who could do such thing to a child?”

Scar didn't answer. A glance at him told her though just what he'd like to do to people who tried.

***

It was one of those transmissions Miles had to do but inherently despised. That of apprising Brigadier General Mustang of what had happened at the Fort. Most of the time things were smooth sailing, but this time there had been a major hiccup. He'd gone over and over in his sleep deprived head if he had missed anything. He did not wish for a repeat of what had happened a little more than a year ago. He had had to step in and stop a potentially very ugly situation. One where he had to draw his service weapon on an unarmed, and very drunk, Ishvallan citizen. 

That situation hadn't gone over too well.

Having laid out the details to Mustang of what had occurred, he stood staring at Taige's dossier which he'd retrieved before heading over to the communications tent. He barely had enough time to splash cold water into his face, and had yet to get himself cleaned up from having to chase down Veela.

Roy, on the other end of the line, sighed. Miles could almost see him running his fingers through his dark hair in frustration. 

“Seems the situation is in hand, Colonel,” Roy tried not to sound patronizing. “It just doesn't go down to well having a soldier go rogue in front of crowd, even if it was for humanitarian reasons. Worse, having that soldier be Ishvallan on top of it.”

“Any soldier, sir,” Miles said and he heard Roy huff on the other end of the line.

“True enough, Miles, my mistake.” There was a pause then Mustang asked. “It sounds though as if there is something else underlying the situation?”

“I'm not sure. I've gone through Taige's dossier with a fine tooth comb. He's had a good record, been up for several commendations and was refused for reason's we don't need to cover any more. Like most of us in Ishval, he's bilingual, or trilingual in his case, speaks Auregan as well. He's what he says he is, but there is that bit of service he was in before being decommissioned. Working with the Mounted Patrol in Central. I suspect he might have had the same capacity with the South City Cavalry. Which would explain the Auregan he can speak. Then there are the interment records, if they can even be located. Somehow this guy managed to slip through Central's fingers and didn't get sent to the labs. I'm curious also to see if anything got reported to Victoria about child traffickers.”

Miles had told the General the entire story of Veela.

“Let me pull a few strings in Central, Colonel,” Roy said, “Let me get with Major Armstrong. He's slowing being moved towards Hughes' former position. He'd be the one to be able to find that information out and get it to you.” 

Miles smirked. It had been good news to hear that Alex Armstrong finally had been receiving better assignments since his stance on the Ishvallan war of extermination. That despite the scathing vitriol his own sister felt about it. The man still deserved a promotion, however. “I'd appreciate that, General.”

“Anything else you need to add? You sound whipped.”

“My apologies General. How about good nights sleep? I've been up nearly 48 hours.” Miles replied ruefully. “Actually there is one more thing,” Miles said propping an elbow on the table and rubbing at his eyes. “Have Alex find what he can about a Sergeant William Bryant.”

“The one who said he helped subdue Corporal Taige?”

“The same. Just call it a hunch. I'm interested to see what this guy's background is as well.”

“Can do. What do you intend to do with Taige?”

“At the moment he's confined to the stockade. Marcoh's got him on medical leave for some broken ribs and that head bashing he got. I may confine him to the Fort on work detail. I can't just let him sit around. He's been damned good so far in getting the horses healed up. He has the experience with them which I know is why he acted as he did.” 

Miles sighed. “I'll wait a week. I don't think a court martial is necessary. I also don't want to lose this guy, if this works out he'd be an asset in getting more Ishvallans enlisted. Anything to help get this Fort up and running. By the end of the week, this may have blown over enough to warrant this. It will have to go in his records though.”

“Sounds logical.” Roy replied. “ All right Colonel, sounds like you do have this well under control.”

“When haven't I?” Miles asked and was rewarded with a slight chuckle from the other end of the line.

“Next time I make it there I need to meet this guy, and his child.”

“He's certainly created a bit of a stir, just showing up out of the blue. His little girl though, is really going to create one.” Miles smirked.

“Because?”

“Ever seen a Ishvallan with curly hair?”

*** 

“All right private,” Bryant leered up at one of the MP's backed up against the wall of the barn. “I can let your payment slide for information like that.” He brushed down the front of the man's uniform. The MP looking down at him in a mixture of disgust and fear.

“You're certain that's d'entire phone call to Eastern Command?”

“Everything.” The MP muttered, shame creeping up into his face. “And I need to get back to my post before I'm missed.”

“Certainly, certainly.” Bryant continued to brush his jacket off. His blue eyes inscrutable and a coy smirk curling his lips. “Just be ready to pay up next week and that little secret between us stays secret. Wouldn't want to send you packing out of d'Fort now, would we?”

“No...”

“No what?” Bryant asked, looking up at the MP sharply.

“No, sir.”

“You got that right,” Bryant growled at him, tapping on an object in his pocket. “Now scurry along little mouse. Go back to your post.”

The MP looked at him sourly and hurried away. 

Bryant stood still, reaching up to rub at his chin, his eyes alive with activity. “You just wait, Corporal desert rat. I'll get you under my thumb somehow. I'm not done with you yet...”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N I am my own beta reader, any mistakes therefore are mine.
> 
> For words in Ishvalan please check out Capn_hoozit's [Ishvalan Dictionary](http://sons-of-the-desert-fma.tumblr.com/post/64660673693/my-ishvalan-dictionary)

****

## 10.

Grudgingly, Taige had to admit, Bryant could handle the horses well. Though their particular methods on achieving results were different. Still, he watched silently as the Sargent put a bay Westfalan gelding through his paces. Expertly guiding the horse through a series of complex walks, trots and canters with knowing hands.

Nearby Miles stood, hands clasped behind his back, watching the horse do its thing. Occasionally he would make remarks to Sergeant Major Benjamin who noted them down for further dissimulation at another time.

Taige sighed. He was on light duty, which for Marcoh meant no lifting of any kind plus he was confined to the Fort for his part in the rail yard debacle. As the Doctor predicted he was indeed sporting a spectacular black eye and the lump still needed to go down. He turned away from the riding paddock and focused his attention on the sorrel mare whose back and sores he had finally succeeded in clearing up. He might not be able to do any heavy physical work, but he knew he could still work with the horses.

He eased his way into the corral complex that had been set up for them. The mare he had treated had developed some uneasy traits from her experiences. She'd made it a habit of getting herself into the middle of the small herd to keep away from people. She was amenable enough in the stalls, allowing him to treat her sores, but out amongst the other horses she developed a fear of being worked.

Taige lifted down a coil of rope from where he had left it hanging near the gate. He ambled slowly towards the cluster of horses in the paddock, to reach a gate further down that opened up into a third yard. With a slow, almost lazy swing of the rope coil, he coaxed the horses away from the gate and swung it open. Then he turned to the horses, who were exhibiting some nervousness about the stranger in the yard.

Moving slowly, he began letting one or two the horses slip by him, purposely keeping the mare from getting past and into the other yard. The other horses that had been allowed in, trotted or gallop to the far end. The mare made a dash for the open gate, past two of the other horses but Taige just lifted the coil of rope, causing the mare to come up short, wheel about and trot away from him. Her head was held high, ears flicking forwards and back, She moved about the yard in nervous bursts of speed.

He let the other two horses by, and as the mare tried to stick with the rest of them, Taige just blocked the opening. He lifted the coil again, and swung the gate closed, leaving him alone in the yard with the mare.

Miles attention was caught at the activity going on. He was about to say something to Taige about heeding the doctors order, but he saw that Taige was only standing in amongst the horses, lazily waving a coil of rope against his leg. He appeared not to be doing much of anything as he swung the gate open and let horses get by. Then he noticed the look of concentration on the Corporal's face.

“Benji,” Miles said quietly catching his adjutant's attention, “Get a load of this.”

Benjamin frowned, looking up from his note taking and watched along with the Colonel as Taige began singling out the sorrel mare from the others, not allowing her to join the rest of the horses now clustering at the far end of the bigger yard. Taige then swung the gate shut. Latching it behind him. The mare kept trying to at least get to the gate to be closer to the others and Taige simply waved her off, sending her to the opposite side of where he stood.

“That's the one he's been treating for the sores and the swelling in on its back.” Benji murmured, watching what was going on. “He mention that she was having some issues as well.”

“What the hell is he doing?”

”I have no idea, but I've heard of folks that have a way with horses. He just might be one of them...”

Time at Briggs had never really allowed Miles that much opportunity to deal with horses. Sure he'd learned to ride and there were some of them at Briggs' disposal, but his centre of focus was more inclined to actually running the fort being its second-in-command. The necessity for horses had become quickly apparent at the fledgling garrison and its particular terrain. So he was on a bit of a learning curve. 

What he had seen normally was people just walking or riding into a herd, lassoing what ever horse they needed and getting on with the business at hand. Usually by forcing a horse to do what was needed.

What he saw now was entirely different to his preconceived notions.

Taige simply waited, talking in a voice so low that no one could make out his words as he purposely kept the mare away from him, walking slowly in a circle and using the coil to get the horse running in one direction or another. Within a few minutes however, he stopped, and the horse faced him. Taige waited a moment, then stepped forward, extending his hand out. At first the horse seemed interested, then as he lifted the coil she darted away again and they repeated the circling around one another.

Finally the horse stopped, and he extended his hand again. Hesitantly the horse approached and Taige set his hand on her forehead, murmuring words of encouragement. When he turned away, slowly walking around the enclosure, the horse followed him sticking by his right shoulder and he reached up and occasionally scratched her neck and chin. 

It was like watching a slow dance. Circle, run, circle, stop. Each time he would lift the coil until the mare just followed him around like a puppy, ignoring the coil and just letting Taige take charge. Presently, with the coil still in one hand, he began lightly stroking her back, watching as she flinched in certain places, then he'd pat her flanks, her haunches, and her shoulder, then repeat.

He caught sight of the Colonel and Benjamin.

“Colonel, Sergeant Major.” Taige acknowledged.

“You have me curious Corporal.” Miles said, “Just what is it you're doing?”

“Come on in and see.”

Miles eyebrow rose in surprise, but then he glanced at Benjamin with a wry smirk and joined Taige in the corral. The mare immediately spun away as the Colonel walked up to Taige. 

“Horses are flight or fight creatures.” Taige explained, still using a gentle tone of voice, keeping his eyes on the horse. “Anything, and I do mean anything, can be viewed as an enemy to a horse. Right now, she doesn't know you, so you are the predator. That's why she's running around the perimeter. Just walk around with me and wait until you see the change in behaviour.”

Miles looked at Taige a moment uncertain, but saw that his concentration was back on the mare. He twisted his shoulders and proceeded to follow the movement of the horse, not letting himself take an eye off of her.

When the horse checked and stopped, turning towards them, Taige said. “See that? She's curious now, you haven't come after her. In a second she'll walk up to us, there...” Taige said. The mare approached them.

For a few moments the same situation the Colonel witnessed with Taige began anew with him in the corral. The mare would break away from contact, running around the perimeter then eventually face them and approach. Taige simply let her, until she finally settled down, seemingly content and just followed the two men around the corral.

“She's a good horse, this one.” Taige said to Miles. “She's just been a little overworked and mishandled. I'm thinking she'd be a good horse for you. How's your riding skills?'

“Little to none.” Miles admitted, patting the horse's neck, following what Taige had been doing.

Taige nodded. “She'll be a good fit then. She's solid and well trained. I can work with the both of you on improving your riding. Just keep patting and stroking her, its what the other horses would be doing. They're herd creatures and right now you and I are this girl's herd.”

Miles looked dubiously at Taige. “Excuse me?” he asked.

Taige glanced at him and smirked. “It's all about observation and trust, Colonel. Instead of trying to force a horse to do what you want, you gain its trust and they will want to work with you. You are in it together, like being part of a team. The herd is a basically a team.”

Miles pondered that for a moment. While he did Taige said.

“If you'd like, sir, now that I've got most of the horses healed up. I can help you with riding. We can do it here in the corral for now. Once I can sit horse again, we can take 'em out of the Fort and around Ishval. Get them used to the terrain, and the heat.” 

“I'll consider it.” Miles replied, remaining neutral, “So long as you aren't going against Marcoh's orders. Can you train others to ride?”

“Yes, sir... There are several soldiers here with experience and some others that can shape up with training. Sergeant Major Benjamin already knows how to ride, he'd be able to help out as well.”

“I need to get a mounted patrol started, among other things.” He looked at Taige levelly. “I guess as part of work punishment you can do this. You're still not off the hook.”

“Understood, sir.” Taige replied, patting the mare's neck. “I wasn't trying to curry favour.”

“Trust me Corporal, after the other night's debacle, you're really going to have to earn that. The last thing I am going to put up with is getting manipulated by one of my own men.” Miles paused and met Taige eye to eye. “You ever try doing that to me again not only will your commission be worth less than shit, I'll personally kick your ass out of my fort. Ishvallan or not.”

His delivery was perfectly calm, for the sake of the horse, but there was enough implied menace to his words that Taige smiled slightly and nodded. 

“Fair enough,” He paused a moment, then added. “And I apologize, sir. If it wasn't for Veela's sake I'd've never done it.”

“Well, that was quite evident.” Miles remarked dryly. 

***

Both Naisha and Vesya had one of their hands clamped over their mouths as they stared, trying hard to suppress the excitement that each wanted to express.

Rada stood in her kitchen wielding a large knife, chopping up a sizable mound of almonds. They looked out into her back garden courtyard. Vesya, ruby eyes nearly as round as saucers, looked at her with a giggle escaping her lips.

“Oh God, Rada, look at her hair!” Naisha bubbled over.

“Please Nai!” Rada scolded good-naturedly. “Not so loud, it's taken three days to get her used to me. She's painfully, painfully shy.” 

Veela was out amongst Rada's vegetables, sitting in the path way and watching butterflies and bees happily going about their business amongst the herbs. Her tousle of white curls just barely seen over the plants by the three in the house.

“How old is she?” Vesya asked, keeping a weather eye on Mattas who was sitting on the kitchen floor and contemplating a set of his blocks with the aim of throwing them. Winry was contently perched on Naisha's hip, watching the going's on.

“Andakar says she's six.”

“Six?” Naisha looked at Rada in surprise. “She's not big enough to be four!”

Vesya smiled brightly, “That means she'll be in our class.”

“She's had a hard time of it, Nai. Tim says she's malnourished. As for school, we're not sure if she's ready for that.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Naisha asked.

“I'm getting the impression she's never been.” 

Both women looked at her. Rada shrugged. “From what I have learned, she's only ever been around her father. They've had a difficult time getting to Ishval. At one point she was taken from him and it took him a few days to relocate her. Since then it's just been the two of them. She's not used to being around people. Especially women.”

“You're not telling us everything are you?” Naisha asked.

“No...” Rada said carefully, scrapping the chopped nuts together and running the blade over them again with a rocking motion of the knife. “She's very scared, Naisha. She won't even let Danika get near her and you know how kind Danika can be. She's still sleeping on our bedroom floor. The only person she trusts is Andakar.”

“That's not surprising,” Vesya said, the three women exchanging knowing smiles.

“She finally started relaxing around me just yesterday.” Rada looked back out at the garden. “She hasn't said a word, yet. Just asking for her Papa and protesting when Andakar brings her back from the fort. Even her crying is silent. It's not normal.”

“By Papa you mean that Ishvallan soldier who showed up?” Naisha asked.

“Yes,” Vesya replied, “The one that shot the horse in the rail yard. Miles was not – is still not-- happy about that.” She looked at the other two, “Apparently he had to do it and fast. The horse was dying. He just broke about a dozen military rules when he did it. It's why he's confined to the Fort.”

“And that's why she is here,” Rada said. “He was leaving her on their home site in Outer Lejia during the day. With him stuck at the fort they needed to bring her into town. That's why we have her.”

“A four year old alone all day by herself?” Naisha nearly exploded, “How could he do that?!”

“Six, Naisha...” Rada replied calmly. “Her papa swears she can handle it just fine, he was just always sure to be back by nightfall. He's not half wrong, she did give the boys a run for their money. Look at her though, she's content out there in the garden, stays out there all day.” Rada looked around for her bowl and carefully scraped the chopped almonds into it.

“You should see her in the mornings. She wakes up the same time as Andakar. He likes to do his private devotions and exercises in the courtyard before we all get up. Imagine his surprise when he walks out with her on his heels. He tried to get her to go back to bed but she refuses. So she just sits on that bench under the honeysuckle.” Rada nodded at a spectacularly thick vine trailing across the top of a pale pink border wall loaded with pink and yellow flowers.

“He says she just listens as he prays and when he starts his exercises she mimics the kalabri and they come down to her.”

“The hummers? No kidding?” Naisha asked. 

“They are fearless little birds,” Vesya pointed out, “Aren't afraid of anything!”

“They're certainly not scared of her,” Rada said, hunting in a cupboard for spices. “Andakar normally likes his morning time to be private, however he doesn't seem to mind her joining him. She's such a quiet little thing... ” she said.

“But?” Naisha prompted. Rada sighed. 

“She was abused, Nai. There are marks on her from the abuse. The few days she was taken from her father is the stuff of nightmares. It's why she's so shy.”

Vesya gasped looking at Rada in horror. “Abused? She's a child!”

“It happens, Ves...” Rada said gently. “Veela's damaged. By herself, like she is out there now, she's happy enough. Around us? She either hides behind Andakar, or she's under the benches.” Rada shook her head. “Just has tears rolling down her cheeks. I've yet to see her smile. She misses her father something fierce.”

“Miles should at least let him out of the Fort during the day, then.” Naisha said. 

“He can't, Nai...” Vesya said, a touch weary, as if she'd gone over this before. She eyed Mattas as he hefted up a block. “He's got to maintain discipline at the Fort. It's his job. He has to remain impartial.”

Naisha scowled. “Doesn't mean it's right.” She heaved a sigh and glanced at Rada. “What did you say her name was again?”

“Veela. Taige told Andakar she was named after the bougainvillea.”

Vesya giggled, “Oh! That's adorable!” With a fast move she snatched the block out of Mattas' hand as he wound up for the pitch.

Rada located her bottle of honey, adding some to the bowl of almonds and spices. “I wanted you two to see her, maybe even try and introduce her to you. She's got to start school eventually.”

“Would Mika help?” Naisha asked. “She took Danika in hand pretty fast.”

“Maybe later, it's the adults she needs to get used to first.” Rada set the bowl aside, setting the knife and spoon in the sink, then washing her hands. “Danika's tried, bless her, but Veela's having none of it. Watching her out there now, she seems to exist in her own little world. And she's perfectly happy in it.”

“She can't really stay in that little world though,” Naisha said.

“No,” Rada murmured, taking up a towel to dry her hands with. “With this little one, we need to draw her out gradually. I'd fear what could happen if we tried doing anything else.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N I am my own beta reader, any mistakes therefore are mine.
> 
> For words in Ishvalan please check out Capn_hoozit's [Ishvalan Dictionary](http://sons-of-the-desert-fma.tumblr.com/post/64660673693/my-ishvalan-dictionary)

****

## 11.

“You're more than welcome to stay with us.” Scar said as Taige finished laying out his things to wrap into a pack.

After ten days confined to the fort, Miles finally amended his confinement order and insisted Taige remain in the city proper for the time being. So did Doctor Marcoh.

“I'm obliged, Zhaarad Andakar, but I don't think I'm ever going to repay the debt I owe.”

“None incurred. And you don't have to call me Zhaarad either.”

Taige glanced at him. “You're being very generous. It's a relief just knowing that Veela's been in such good hands. This is the longest stretch we've been apart, asides from the visits.”

“She's settled down well with my wife and one of my cousins. Plus she's allowing Danika to play with her.” Scar's eyes briefly lit with some amusement. “On Veela's terms.”

Taige smirked. “It's only been the two of us for quite some time now. She's used to entertaining herself.”

“She's certainly taken a liking to Rada's garden. Even helps to weed and pick vegetables.”

Taige snorted softly, slipping his arm and head under the loop of the sash like pack. He readjusted it as he stood up straight. “I've taught her a lot about foraging and finding water. It's a game we play to pass the time when we've travelled.”

“I take it you did a lot of that on foot?”

“Mostly yeah. Got a break two months ago. A horse training job with a rancher based outside of Zegto. Got enough pay to get me up to Central to get my records and register as a returnee. Then I headed for home.”

Scar nodded, ducking past the tent flap and standing up straight as Taige followed him.

“You intend to settle that far out in Lejia?”

“Eventually. I barely had time to mark out a likely home to build. Once that is done, I hope to try and practise the family trade.”

“You've mentioned horses,” Scar stated as they strode across the fort compound heading for the gates. They intended to hitch a ride with one of the transport trucks heading towards Ishval proper.

“My family raised and trained them since before the Great Earthquake.” Taige shrugged, “Stories go that our family trained the Istiqans for the royal household back in the days of the princes.”

A glimmer of interest lit Scar's eyes, “Really? Saahad Bozidar would like to hear some of those, myself included. We've so little of the old histories at the moment.” He paused and continued, “That aside, training horses won't be an easy occupation to get into.”

“There's that,” Taige said, “Part of the reason I re-enlisted as well. Besides Veela. You wouldn't happen to know if there's been any sighting of horses near the ranges?”

Scar thought a moment, recalling the treks he had made to the source of the Halik. “All I ever saw was years old evidence. I imagine that the horses were either confiscated by the Amestrians, killed or released.”

“A mix of it all. I know my father released our herds before the district was attacked. Same as a few of the other families. I guess its too much to hope that they survived.”

“The goats did.” Scar said. “You might ask our master carpenter. He heads out every few weeks or so up into the oaks. Sometimes goes further to get cedar and pine. He might have seen something.”

Taige raised an eyebrow, pondering. 

Scar changed the subject. “With you allowed out of the fort now, you might want to consider Veela starting school. With you there to get over the initial stages, she'd settle in a little better.”

Taige smiled slightly. He had learned the Khorovor of Ishval was also the headmaster of the school, teaching the older students. It would be his concern that all the children be educated. “I'll be there. It's one of those milestones isn't it? Like a first birthday?”

Scar glanced over, an eyebrow lifted in query, a faint smile on his face. “It is.” He nodded at a waiting truck and both men climbed aboard into the back.

Instead of driving the access road straight through to Kanda, Scar suggested getting off at the bustling market. “I need to get a few things in the market place.” He dropped down easily out of the back of the truck when it eased to a stop.

“Ah,” Taige commented, joining him, “I wouldn't mind getting a few purchases myself.” With his recent pay, he needed to get some proper Ishvallan clothes at last. 

As the two men entered into the vibrantly bustling and noisy Kanda district, Scar commented. “Rada and I couldn't help but noticed that Veela doesn't really speak.”

“She's been a quiet child since she was born. Then it became a necessity. It, uh...” Taige paused, “It got worse after her kidnapping. She mostly whispers now.”

“So we've noticed.”

“She...” Taige paused, struggling for the words. “They punished her for crying out. Trying to keep her silent. Their intent was to sell her to traffickers in Creta. I barely found her in time. Since then its just been the two of us. Trying to get back to Ishval.”

Scar sighed, a grim look on his face. He understood. So many of the returnees had walked back to Ishval rather than accept the help of the Amestrian military despite the change in circumstances and attitude. Even now, two years into the rebuilding, refugees still trickled in on foot.

“You mentioned Veela's need to be quiet as a necessity?”

“Trying to stay one step ahead of the West City Command. I could see the writing on the wall at the internment camp. I got out of there with a few others. We then went underground, trying to get out of West Amestris. Veela was born in the slums outside of Pendleton. During the border wars.”

“For one born into such adversity, she's rather remarkable.” Scar commented.

“Ishvalla knows, Saahad, I've tried my best.” Taige sighed. “I needed His help bringing her into --and up-- in this mad world of ours. Saahad Tosca helped a lot as well.”

“I'm no longer a priest...” Scar rumbled, a slight smirk crooking the corner of his lips.

Taige snorted softly. “You still bear all the makings of one though.”

“I asked Saahad Bozidar about Tosca. He was a young priest at the Lejia Temple. What became of him?”

Taige sighed. “Tosca suffered from Trench Fever. That in and of itself was bad enough. Every five to seven days he'd have a relapse. He contracted it after we escaped from the interment camp. The slums were filthy. On our own, as it were, he was able to get by but his health was weak. After Veela's kidnapping, he contracted dysentery and there was nothing we could do.”

Taige paused a moment, “It's a humiliating way to die and I have never seen anyone approach that kind of thing with as much grace and humility as he did.”

Scar heaved a sigh of his own. It never got any better hearing what happened to his people. 

He and Taige wended their way around the different stalls. As they did Taige spotted Bryant. Not a difficult thing as he tended to stand out like a sore thumb amongst the general tawny skinned, white haired population of Ishval. Taige discreetly observed him talking head to head with a pair of said Ishvallans before giving them a satisfied smile and slinking back between a pair of stalls and disappearing. The two Ishvallans laughed genially among themselves, nonchalantly continuing their stroll through the market, walking ahead of them. 

As they gathered selected purchases and talked, Taige kept an eye out on the pair. Presently they found a third man in the street and began talking with him.

Scar glanced their way as he handed over change to a merchant selling spices. “That man over there, the well dressed one? That's Stanno Dreva, the Kanda chieftain. He's the master carpenter I mentioned who goes out into the ranges. He's the one you might ask about horse sightings.”

“Who are those two with him?”

“Pair of his old cronies,” Scar growled. “Stanno is selfish. He's out only for himself. You might want to be aware of that. He'll probably try and get something out of you.”

Taige glanced at him, unfailing to notice the underlying enmity in his voice. “Not on good terms are we?”

“No.” Scar replied flatly.

With an amused look on his face, Taige replied,“That's rather uncharitable...” 

Scar snorted in disgust. “He earned it.”

Taige instantly sensed that the rancour ran rather deep. “And the other two?” he prompted.

“Ahcran and Deuel. They could be more helpful to their community but they prefer getting drunk and generally wasting space.”

“No love lost there either?” Taige asked. 

Scar only lifted a shoulder and growled, but he caught the implied humor in Taige's voice and a faint smile touched his lips. 

A short time later, Rada met them both at the front door. She greeted Taige like he was an old friend, much to Scar's amusement.

“Pleasure's mine, Zhaarana,” Taige said as she led him towards the guest room. 

“Veela's out in my garden, she's going to be so surprised to see you! I went ahead and set up a little cot in here for her too.”

“That's gracious of you, and thank you for opening up your home to us.” He slipped out of the pack setting it on the bed along with his purchases.

Rada took a few moments to explain where things were in the house, then led him through to the kitchen. Scar was already out in the garden with Veela, who was holding up something for him to look at.

“She really is a little joy,” Rada commented as Taige watched what was going on. “Entertains herself for hours out there.”

“I'm just grateful she's settling in a bit, Zhaarana,” Taige said, “It's been a bit on the rough side for her.”

“Andakar's mentioned some of it. She's so very shy.” Rada sounded hesitant.

“It's all right, Zhaarana. Now that I'm home, more or less, she needs to start getting around others more.”

“Please, Taige, call me Rada! Let me get you a few things set up in the bathroom and once you go see her, you're welcome to freshen up. Dinner won't be for a little while yet, it should give you a chance to relax some.”

“Thank you,” Taige said and moved towards the door to the backyard.

Rada watched as he stepped out into the garden and she smiled when Veela looked up. The genuine joy that flashed over the little girl's face at seeing her father was a warming sight indeed. Standing in the doorway, she watched him swing her up onto his hip, affection radiating from his features. He said something to her, reaching in to tickle her belly and for the first time since she had come to stay in the Ruhad household, Veela giggled out loud.

***

School proved to be another story all together.

The first few days Taige accompanied Vesya and Naisha, walking Veela to the school. As expected, she was painfully shy. She sat in the middle of the class, huddled at her desk. The other children, naturally curious, either stared or tried to engage but Veela just shrunk in on herself, hiding her head in her arms and staring at the wall. 

Danika did her best, fending off the more gregarious of the kids and explaining that Veela was just frightened. Vesya hovered nearby, helping with the lessons, knowing that it was a first time experience for the little girl and feeling a lot of sympathy as well. She had been the shy and protected one in her family, through a time of war no less. She had always been the one to stay back and just let things happen around her, engaging only when she felt comfortable doing so. 

She knew Veela wasn't all that different, just more so. It didn't help that her head of white curls attracted all the attention of the children who naturally, full of curiosity, wanted to touch her hair. During breaks Veela stayed near the door of the class, huddled against the wall, arms wrapped around her knees and peeking out at the others as they let off pent up energies. 

Naisha, on her part, was understanding of the situation, but after the first full week was convinced that Veela wasn't paying the least bit of attention. That she was just withdrawing further and further into a shell. So long as Vesya was right by her side, encouraging her, she barely made it through simple lessons and refused to participate in any of the activities. She also never said a word.

Finally Naisha decided to nudge the ball along. During a lesson where she would call out a letter, she'd select a student who gave a corresponding thing spelled with that letter. She decided Veela needed to be selected.

Veela, on hearing her name, froze in horror, utterly unable to say a word. She stared at Naisha, her red eyes round with terror. The entire classroom was silent, staring at her, as Naisha gently tried to encourage her to say something. Soon a few ripples of whispers fluttered about the room.

“What's going on?”

“Is something wrong with her?”

“She's just stupid!”

“What's she doing in here?”

“She's just a baby!”

“Oh look, now she's crying.”

“Crybaby!”

“Stop it!” Danika burst out, “Stop!” She was out of her desk, confronting the entire class, standing ramrod straight, fists at her sides. She stomped her foot.“Stop it now!”

“Danika!” Naisha said, looking over the children's heads at Vesya. “It's all right, sit back down.”

Vesya had hurried over, crouching next to the desk where Veela sat. Tears were beginning to roll down her cheeks and she was starting to gasp for breathe. With a glance at Naisha, Vesya slipped the little girl out of her desk...

“No!” Veela protested out loud, going rigid in Vesya's arms. 

“It's all right, Vee!” Vesya murmured, reaching down to grab the little alphabet book she had made for the children of Ishval. “It's okay!” Veela twisted around, looking for a way to escape. Vesya stood up, shot a look at Naisha and promptly left the room.

Outside, she tried comforting the little girl, who was beginning to hiccup for breath, her body trembling. Vesya looked around, recalling instances of her own childhood and reacting similarly. She looked towards Imir's classroom, hearing him through the open window as he led the middle grades through their lessons. 

Vesya knew what she needed but was unsure where to go. She hurried past and saw Scar's classroom, dead silent. She recalled then that the older students had a field trip, overseen by several of the master craftsmen, and were out and about the market place, seeing how different trades where conducted.

An idea bloomed in her head and she made straight for the provincial offices. 

Inside it was dark and cool, from the unique construction of the thickly walled building. Nobody was in the reception area but through an open doorway to the khorovor's office, she saw Andakar talking with Doctor Marcoh. She slipped to one side, where an inset bench was in the wall and she set Veela on it.

“Just stay right here, okay?” She murmured to her, pushing the curls away from her face. Veela hiccuped, shaking like a leaf, the tears still rolling. Vesya handed her the book, which she clutched in her arms and laid her head sideways on her knees as she curled into a tight little ball. Patting her gently on the back Vesya stood up and approached the office door.

Scar spotted her first.

“Vesya?” He asked, a look of concern on his face. Marcoh glanced her way.

“Sorry, Andakar! I don't mean to disturb you. Someone had a meltdown.” She nodded into the reception room.

Scar knew exactly what she was saying. He sighed then stood up. 

“A meltdown?” Marcoh asked and he came to the doorway before Scar reached it and looked out into the room. Veela huddled there in abject misery, struggling with the hiccups.

“She's had a little too much,” Vesya explained, “I wanted to bring her somewhere quiet but not leave her alone. Would she be all right here?”

“She's got to start participating more with people...” Scar said, looking at the child.

Marcoh, taking in the situation, smiled slightly. “And she will, in good time.” He looked at the others. “I've seen children like Veela before. I imagine you may have been like her.” He smiled at Vesya. “Just not quite so pronounced.”

“What are you saying, Marcoh?” Scar asked, slipping around the two, and approaching Veela.

“This little girl is a genuine introvert.” He moved over in front of her, crouching down. “The extroverts get all the attention, they thrive on it. But children like Veela?” He reached out and patted Veela's arm, who refused to look at him. “They need a different approach to things.”

“Is it something that's wrong with her?” Vesya asked. “Naisha is beginning to think she hasn't learned a thing this week. She seems so far behind. She just won't participate in anything. She won't even play.”

“There's absolutely nothing wrong with her. Her father's done an amazing job with her considering her past. What we're dealing with here is how she learns. Children like our little miss moppet here are perfectly at home in their own skin. They are your loners, able to be happy entirely on their own terms.” Marcoh smiled up at Vesya. “I recall you standing at the back of gatherings and parties, perfectly content, until a certain Major swept you off your feet. Veela is the same.”

Scar glanced at Marcoh, his thoughts veering down another trail. The Doctor caught the look in his eye and he nodded. “Children like Veela are sponges, they take in the information but instead of just automatically acting with it, like your more outgoing children, she needs time to think it over. That's why some children daydream. They are getting the material, they are just learning it their way.”

“She's more on the extreme end of the scale?” Scar asked. 

“Exactly,” the Doctor replied. “I'm sure you've dealt with many extroverts and introverts in your time.” 

Marcoh reached into a pocket and pulled out a clean handkerchief, which he began using to wipe at the tears on Veela's face. “When introverts get a little too much, or are pulled out of their daydreams, they, melt down, as you say. It's too abrupt an action and their brains just can't process the change that fast. What this one needs is a bit of quiet in a cool, dark, room and a glass of water.” He nodded at her, glancing at the other two, as the hiccuping began to abate. “She'd be all right here for a while won't she?”

“Of course,” Scar replied, reaching down to set his hand on Veela's head.

Marcoh stood back up, smiling at Vesya. “What you might try doing is letting her sit a bit apart of the other students, give her a little space. Let her learn in her own way. I think she may surprise you. Introverts are very smart.”

“Oh, I hope so, Doctor Marcoh! I know Naisha's probably kicking herself for making her cry in class. I know Danika got pretty angry with the other kids for starting to talk.”

“Danika?” Scar asked, looking sharply at her.

Vesya smiled, “She stood up for her. Literally. She gave the other a right proper scolding!”

Scar suddenly huffed in amusement. “Good for her.”

“Well, I'll be on my way then.” Marcoh said searching around for his hat which he had dropped on the reception desk. “She'll be fine, Vesya!” He patted her on the shoulder and took up his hat. 

Vesya glanced quickly at Scar. “I need to get back to class, Andakar, you're sure she'll be all right?”

“Yes, I'll take it from here,” He rumbled.

“Well,” Marcoh replied with a smile, “Looks like I get to escort you part of the way back!”

As he watched the two leave, Scar pondered a moment, then looked down at Veela. He held out a hand to her.

“C'mon, little moppet,” He murmured gently, “Let's go in here.”

She barely lifted her head. Still a picture of woe. 

“You don't have to go back today, you can stay in here with me.”

She thought on that a moment, before reaching up and running the back of her hand under her nose, her breathing hitching a bit. Then she reached up and took his hand.

In his office, he glanced at the chairs then decided he'd just let her sit on the floor next to his desk. She'd be close by, easy to keep an eye on, and quiet enough to let him get on with his work. Settling into his chair with Veela sitting on his left, back to his desk drawers, he poured her a glass of water, handing it down to her.

Out of the corner of his eye, as he went over paperwork, she sat there, the little book in her lap, idly flipping through pages. He wasn't sure if she was just looking at Vesya's very Ishvallan drawings, or the words, in Amestrian, Ishvallan and Ishvallan script. Even in the relative quiet of the room, her soft whispering was barely legible. True to what Marcoh said, Veela seemed content, entertaining herself and feeling safe with him there. When she glanced up at him, he smiled slightly and winked, before going on about his work.

Time slipped by. He was concentrating on a vital report, his hearing picking up the distinct clicking sounds of hummers visiting the bougainvillea growing outside his office window. Otherwise his office was quiet, a pleasant difference for a change, and he was able to get a few things done.

Until he felt a little hand pat his leg.

He glanced down at Veela, who had stood up, holding the book in her hand. She had it open to a middle page. She patted his leg again then pointed out the window.

“Zu...” She whispered. Scar frowned slightly, looking at her intently. She pointed at Vesya's drawing of a running Ishvallan boy. “Zu...”

“Fast.” He replied. 

Vesya nodded, a gleam appearing in her ruby coloured eyes. “Fast...” she whispered thoughtfully tumbling the Amestrian around. Setting the book on his leg she flipped it to the front and pointed at a drawing of a wren. “Teyr...” she whispered. 

“Bird,” he said, watching her. 

Veela bobbed her curls, “Bird!” She pointed out the window. “Zu teyr.” She said softly.

The clicking of the hummers outside his window got decidedly louder as he looked down at her.

“Zu teyr?” she asked in her whisper. 

Scar, smiled ever so slightly, his normally stern features softening. He shifted in his chair, reaching down and lifting her up onto his leg. He slipped a finger into the pages of her book and opened it up to another page.

Pointing at the picture he pronounced slowly, “Kalibri.” 

She looked at him earnestly. 

“Zu teyr, fast bird?” He tapped the picture again. “Kalibri, hummingbird.” He pointed out the window. 

Veela stared at it a moment, then glanced up at him. “Hum... ming...bird,” She said out loud, in a child's soft voice. “Zu teyr!” she said, “Kalibri!” 

Then her nose crinkled as a grin lit her face.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N I am my own beta reader, any mistakes therefore are mine.
> 
> For words in Ishvalan please check out Capn_hoozit's [Ishvalan Dictionary](http://sons-of-the-desert-fma.tumblr.com/post/64660673693/my-ishvalan-dictionary)

****

## 12.

It was only a matter of time, Taige knew.

He was in the stable, brushing down a bay gelding, in preparation for saddling. Since the incident at the rail yard, both he and Bryant had been kept pretty much separated. It was a subtle move, a discreet one, on the part of the Colonel. Miles loaded Bryant with work, keeping him busy, while Taige, under fort disciplinary action and Marcoh's orders, was occupied elsewhere. He mostly just worked one on one with the horses. He also took a few of the soldiers, the Colonel included, through a series of riding lessons inside the fort.

He heard the scuff of a boot and he turned, seeing Bryant approach. He set the curry comb aside and saluted the Sargent, keeping his eyes on him. Bryant didn't return the salute, he just stopped, his lip lifted in a smirk and regarded Taige. 

Taige dropped his hand. “Sir?” he simply asked.

“I could have you up for insubordination for that,” Bryant said.

“Yes, you could,” Taige replied. “Unless you're saving it up for some other time.”

“Ohhh, think you're still so clever eh?”

Taige wasn't going to get baited on this one and he kept silent, manoeuvring himself so that the horse was between him and Bryant. 

“Just an observation based on fact,” Taige replied at last, picking the curry comb back up.

“Is that so?” Bryant sneered. “How 'bout I tell you what I observe for facts?” He slipped his thumbs into his pockets, rocking a little on his heels, the fingers of one hand tapping on a hard object.

“You seem to think you've got one pulled over d'Colonel's eyes don't you?”

Taige said nothing, just going about grooming the horse. 

Bryant smirked at him, “I happen to know Corp, that what our jumped up Ishvallan commander thinks is your records ain't quite d' real deal now, is it?” Seeing he wasn't going to get a response, Bryant continued. 

“Seems there's two copies of that there record of yours floatin' about. D' one d' Colonel has, which is pretty sterile readin'. And then d' other which is pretty spicey stuff! That's not to mention certain other records, letting all and asunder know that you went a bit AWOL from that place.”

Bryant smiled, a predatory gleam in his eyes. “Seems that there's certain warrants out for you in West Amestris that haven't quite been resolved as yet...”

Taige ignored him, setting the curry comb aside and turning towards the stall behind him where a saddle pad was draped. He lifted it off and settled it on the back of the gelding. He glanced over the horse's withers at Bryant.

“Between you and me, Corp, information like that might cost a bit to keep it under wraps, if you know what I'm sayin'.”

“If you've got some sort of point you're trying to make, Sarge, get on with it. I've got other things to do.” Taige said, reaching under the horse for the pad strap. He stood up straight, slipping the strap through the D ring, his fingers automatically making the knot to snug the pad down.

Bryant bristled, his smirk turning ugly. “You don't seem to be taking this as seriously as you should, Corporal. You got off with a wrist slap for that business with d' horse at d' rail yard. Our illustrious desert rat of a Colonel doesn't appear to want to make an example of you. Makes him look weak. Makes you his little pet Ishvallan doesn't it? So what happens if he suddenly sees you for what you really are? I can easily make that happen. Unless you provide me with an incentive not to say a thing.”

Taige smirked back over the withers of the horse. “Unlike you, Sarge? I've ain't got nothing to hide.” 

“Oooohhh,” Bryant leered, “That's not quite true now is it, Corp? I happen to know that there's another file of your's that's been in d' hands of a certain friend of mine, a Lt. Colonel Rupert Armstrong in West Amestris. He doesn't really like what's going on out here with this 'rebuild Ishval' project. He doesn't really like your lot. He, nor his father, d' General. Neither one of them approves of our Ishvallan commander either. They'd like nothing more than to see the both of you and the rest of this pack of fleas, sent crawling out into your precious desert sands.”

“If that's what they'd like, let them come out here and take care of things.” Taige replied easily, turning back to the stall and lifting up a military issue saddle. He smiled at Bryant, settling the saddle on the pad and shifting it for the right fit. “Chances are they're just yellow enough and lazy enough not to want to get their hands dirty. Which is why they are leaving it all up to you.” 

Taige reached under for the saddle strap and began cinching it into place. “No culpability on their part. If things go south, they're hands are clean and you're the one getting thrown to the jackals.”

Taige patted the horse's flank, smiling at Bryant.

Bryant's face flushed and his leer took on an ugly twist. He stepped to the left, slapping the gelding on his haunch and causing the horse to toss his head and pivot, leaving Taige exposed. 

Taige just stood still, letting Bryant get into his face.

“If you don't think this is serious enough for you to consider keeping it all quiet, Corp,” He hissed “I happen to know as well that there is a certain unmistakable little spawn of yours who's dead easy to pick out in a crowd! Wouldn't want anything to happen to that little mite now would we?”

Taige went absolutely rigid, his red eyes glared down into Bryant's.

“Lay a finger on my child, Sarge and it will be the last thing you ever do.”

“Threatening an officer now?” Bryant hissed, a predatory smirk sliding across his face. “I wonder how many more of those will be in that file of yours? Got a bit of history where that is concerned? I'd say you really owe me for this now.”

“I'd say you'll see a cold day in hell before that happens.”

Taige saw the subtle shift in movement on Bryant's part and he struck faster than a snake. As Bryant's hand left his pocket, knucks in place, Taige grabbed the soft flesh between Bryant's thumb and twisted, drawing Bryant's arm across his body.

Bryant strangled down a howl of pain as Taige forced him to his knees. The horse jerked his head up, eyes rolling and tried to dance away from the two.

Taige leaned over, getting closer to Bryant's ear as he began protesting. 

“Listen very carefully to me, yaakhtai,” He said in a sibilant growl, “You get near my child and I'll personally drag you're worthless ass out into the desert. I will stake you out there in the open sands. You'll lay out there frying like an egg, feeling your skin bubble, and pop, and split. Then you'll get visits from our Ishvallan flies who will lay their eggs in you and have them hatch within six hours. By then your stench will have attracted the attentions of the bolga qarishqa's. They will come and systematically strip the flesh off your carcase as you very slowly, painfully, go stark raving mad while you scream yourself to death.” 

He drew back and smirked at the struggling Sergeant. “And I'll stand back and watch you beg for mercy while they do it.”

Straightening up, he sidestepped past the Sergeant, using his heel to knock Bryant's leg out from underneath him. He shoved the Sergeant away, causing him to trip and fall backwards, landing on his butt and slapping his hands on the floor of the barn. He glared up at the Corporal. Taige reached over and gripped the bridle of the spooked horse. 

“Write that one up for your insubordination report,” he said, then he turned and led the horse from the barn.

*** 

It really wasn't that much of a stretch for the imagination.

It also didn't really surprise him in the least.

Miles glared down at over a dozen reports he had neatly arranged on his desk and stared at the figures and results.

From the kitchens to the commissary, the blacksmiths to engineering, office supplies to the millwrights, things were 'disappearing' from all over his fledgling garrison.

Nothing glaring or exceptional, making it even harder to prove. However, a little something here, and a little something there eventually would become noticeable despite efforts to skew the patterns of theft. Somebody, or perhaps more, was skimming the Fort's inventory. No doubt to line their pockets.

Miles was not stupid. As Briggs second -in-command any attempt at thefts such as these inevitably got his attention and he had his ways of dealing with it swiftly and ferociously, if the General didn't get to the perpetrators first. Crime was simply not tolerated in the North and he had personally derailed the military aspirations of any soldier involved in such.

He'd do it here as well. 

What dismayed him was that it had shown up so fast and that someone was trying to pull a fast one over on a new commander...

That rankled.

He started to run through the list of possible individuals to focus a little bit more scrutiny on. Two standing out rather prominently. That and giving an overall reaming of the troops that theft would not be tolerated. He wondered if he should head over to Havoc's store and ask him a few questions. He was mulling this over when a private entered the reception room and tapped a knuckle on his open office door.

Miles, not wearing his glasses at the moment, shot a glare at the man who instantly snapped to attention, saluting, and breaking into a sweat at the red eyed glare neatly pinning him to the door. 

“Yes?” he barked.

“Sir! Sorry for the interruption. There's a transmission for you at the communications tent.”

Miles heaved a sigh, sitting back and still not letting the private go, then he shook his head and rose. “All right private, I'll be right over.”

“Sir!” The private clipped out and vanished as fast as he could get out of the room.

Heading for the communication tent, which cleared out of personnel when he entered, Miles dropped into the chair, donning the headset. He adjusted the mouthpiece with one hand and flipped the switch to start communications with the other when a loud voice exploded in his ear.

“Colonel Miles!” 

The voice that boomed through the earpiece caused Miles to hold it out and wince. He reached up to rub at his ear. He wondered if he'd end up loosing his hearing.

“How very fortuitous to be able to catch you in the office at this hour!” Alex Armstrong's voice could be heard just by holding the headset out. Miles looked at it in annoyance. It was mid-morning, easily 85°F and still climbing. Most everyone was inside to beat the heat.

“Hello, Major Armstrong, to what do I owe the pleasure of this call?” Miles asked politely, slipping a finger under the headset into one ear and holding the other earpiece out away from his head.

“This is in regards to a small matter of business that Brigadier General Mustang asked me to conduct on your behalf, sir, a short while ago. Which I took as a very fine opportunity to assist with.”

Miles resettled the headset, with a grimace, back to his ear. “That's kind of you Major. Just what is it you have for me?”

“If I may be so bold sir, are your communication lines secure?” Alex actually got his voice to drop.

Miles stopped and stared out at the opposite wall of the tent for a few seconds. “Sensitive material?” he asked.

“In a manner of speaking, officially and unofficially.”

“Personnel records?” Miles asked carefully.

“Amongst others. You already have the official records in your possession?” Alex asked.

“Affirmative.” Miles replied. “As for my communication lines being secure. I can vouch for that. Telephone lines still haven't reached here yet. This is still Ishval's military channel.”

“That brings me a great measure of assurance, sir!” Alex boomed.

Miles winced. “So what is it that you have Major?”

“The dossier of one of the individuals in question has been scrubbed. You have what is considered the official reports.” Alex said. 

Miles paused a moment. Official in what the military bureaucracy wanted the public to know about. More sensitive records where kept by both the Military Police and Intelligence.

“Due to the nationality of one of the person's requested, I had to gather it from West City Command.” Alex rumbled. “Because of the decommissions, any Ishvallan personnel had their records sent West for re-assessment.”

Miles reached up and ran a finger across his brow, glaring hard at the wall. Reassessment simply meant rewritten, scrubbing the official records clean in order to commit the atrocities that had occurred. 

Miles' own records during the purge had been neatly misdirected into Briggs' care and he had consequently been overlooked. That and his non-Ishvallan heritage had been stressed and re-emphasized. He wondered just who had managed to divert his dossier into the hands of the Northern Wall of Briggs?

“I have obtained, through a network that circumvents the notice of a certain line of the Armstrong family in West City, intel on the two men in question. I must add that if this information were to get out it would bring much pain to my esteemed father. He is -provincially speaking- the head of the family and to know that this shameful conduct has been orchestrated by his own brother would be crushing indeed.”

Alex paused and added apologetically. “As you aware, sir, my uncle, General Hamilcar H. Armstrong, of the West City Command has no love for Ishval or for what is being done to rightfully restore that land to its people.”

Miles sighed, propping his elbow on his desk and rubbing his eyes. That was the 'unofficial' request; treading carefully around the Armstrong family name.

Through his long liaison with Major General Olivier Armstrong, he had had frequent contact with most of her family. Including the Western branch; notorious for their snobbery and deep-seated intolerance of people who were 'not as themselves'. He had suffered their insults with his usual calm, detached manner, and listened afterwards as Olivier described -in detail- how she would like to line them up against a wall and use them for tank practice.

“Continue...” Miles nearly groaned.

“The dossier for this individual in question is rather lengthy in reading and I care not to further sully the reputation of either individuals for good or ill. Suffice is to say, the official documents are a disgrace. I can't even begin to summarize it. I will be sending these to you, sir, via special courier, your signature being required for the contents. Sent by a Central man I trust.”

Alex paused again.

“Go on Alex,” Miles sighed.

“I might add sir that the interment records are distressing reading. What is still being uncovered in the West is disturbing in its own right. I have included in the reports the current assessment of what occurred out there.” 

Miles couldn't miss the regret in Alex's voice. The previous administrations interment camps were getting exposure for what occurred before the Promised Day and what was being revealed was the stuff of horror. 

Starvation. Disease. Rampant abuse. Rumours were surfacing of forced surgeries. On top of which was the horror of being sent to the labs in Central for production of philosopher stones. People being treated as subhuman beings. Fodder for the designs of a power mad, inhuman, creature. Miles heaved a sigh, rubbing at his forehead.

“Major, I appreciate what it is you've done to collect this information for me. I am not insensitive to what it has cost.” Miles said, feeling the onset of a headache. “Rest assured I will not allow this information to reach the family's notice.”

“You are being most gracious, Colonel Miles!” Alex boomed again. 

“You've been diligent in securing it for me. I'll be sure to let the Brigadier know that.”

“That is most generous on your part, sir! But I have only done my duty. Please know as well that West City Command is none the wiser.”

“That is most appreciated, Major.”

Miles sat back as the line went dead. He flicked the switch severing the connection and pulled the headset off. He set it gently back on the tabletop. It grew so quiet in the tent that only the clicking and hum of the equipment could be heard. Miles' mind and thoughts were very, very far away.

What the hell had Alex Armstrong uncovered on Corporal Taige?


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N I am my own beta reader, any mistakes therefore are mine.
> 
> For words in Ishvalan please check out Capn_hoozit's [Ishvalan Dictionary](http://sons-of-the-desert-fma.tumblr.com/post/64660673693/my-ishvalan-dictionary)

****

## 13.

Naisha breathed out a sigh of relief.

If she could only tap into a tenth of the energy from her class of children she could keep going all day long. She smiled slightly, glancing out the window at the boisterous sounds of playing children as they took a short break from their studies.

She looked around the class room, her eyes resting on the little desk set at the back and slightly apart from the rest of the students. Since Veela's breakdown in class that day, a slight readjustment in the seating layout had been effected and she sat at the very back of the class. It made it a bit easier for Vesya to keep an eye on her and the results had seen the little girl began to slowly bloom.

She was still painfully shy, and it took some coaxing to get her to open up if she opened up at all. Still, Naisha was gratified to know that Veela was paying attention, according to what Andakar was telling her. Her vocabulary was picking up both Amestrian and Ishvallan, if only she would stop whispering her answers!

Naisha sighed, Veela also wouldn't interact with the other children. Danika was the exception, who being more gregarious, often ended up playing school yard games with the others and leaving Veela to her own devices. It probably helped that for the time being Veela and her father were guests in the Ruhad household.

More often than not, Veela would end up in the children's garden, perfectly content. She played with the butterflies that could be found fluttering to hearts delight around the different plants that the children grew. A raised bed, made from bricks that Scar had 'reconstructed' had been used to build the garden. On the offside of the bed a large stack of the blocks remained for possible expansion. 

Usually Naisha just glanced out the door or the window and could see Veela's curly head. She'd sit amongst the plants, hands raised up as she let the butterflies flitter around her. Naisha gathered up the next study sheets and began laying them out on the desks in preparation for the next lesson. Her ears telling her that Imir's class was coming out for a break. The boisterous sounds of the older kids swelled the volume of the yard as a ball was produced and an impromptu game began.

It wasn't a great surprise that the ball in question would get kicked and either bounce off a wall or one of the others kids in a errant shot. Much howling and joviality would ensue. Naisha didn't know how many times she had adjured the students to try and avoid bouncing the ball off the walls of the class rooms. She also didn't want them kicking it anywhere near the garden. 

The distinctive collective gasps of dread caught her attention followed closely by the sound of stone grinding against stone. This followed instantly with mockery and laughter while several students ran past her window yelling out apologies. She knew exactly where the ball had landed and she straightened up heading for the doorway.

If anything she was more concerned about Veela and as she looked out at the garden she immediately frowned when she didn't see her. Several students, who had chased after the ball as it bounced away, stopped and approached the fallen stack of blocks. Naisha paused, finally spotting Veela as she clambered down off the raised garden bed and reached the pile of bricks before the other students did.

She came out of the classroom, standing in the yard and watched as Veela waved her left hand, as if she was trying to push the other students away. They promptly ignored her, reaching down to grab a few blocks to re-stack them. Veela wouldn't move, she just came closer to the stack, staring at something intently, waving her arm at the students.

“Move, Veela!” One of the students protested reaching out to pull her away.

As he did, the other student, hefting a block almost dropped it.

“Viper!” he yelled.

No word could have possibly produced a reaction as fast as that word. Both older students dropped their bricks, beginning to back away as other students heads whipped around at the commotion.

“It's a Qiloshmar!!” The student yelled again, panic lacing his voice. “A horned viper!” He began to reach out to grab Veela.

Veela, however, had moved closer to the jumbled pile of blocks. She stood there, staring intently at the pile, her left hand still held out as she went from waving them all back to twisting her hand rapidly back and forth.

“Veela! No!” Someone else yelled.

At the base of the pile, having been disturbed by the displacement, lay a snake roughly eighteen inches long. It had a mottled pattern of chevrons in tans, greys, and pale pink. Above its unblinking yellow eyes were two prominent tiny scale horns.

A sidewinder, it was curling into an S shape, pulling its head back and everyone able to see it, saw that its attention was focused on Veela's fluttering hand.

“Oh sweet Ishvalla!” Naisha gasped beginning to run towards the group as the snake prepared to strike.

“Veela!” Vesya shouted, trying to rush her way past the suddenly gathering crowd. She was just about to reach out, to pull the little girl out of the way. 

At that second, Veela's right hand flashed forward and her little fist latched onto the snake directly below its head. She stood up straight, and the snake's mouth opened in a hiss of outrage. It twisted and writhed about, wrapping its body around her wrist. With a giggle, Veela turned around, hefting the snake in the air, her nose crinkling as she grinned up at Vesya.

There was an electric pause as everyone stared in shock.

Then Naisha began screaming.

The entire crowd surged backwards with a collective gasp of horror. Vesya reached up to slap her hand over Naisha's mouth cutting her next scream off.

“For God's sake Nai, don't scare her. She might drop it!” She urged, unable to take her eyes off Veela who's smile was slowly disappearing. She stood looking at her sudden audience, holding the snake up, confusion in her eyes.

“What the..?” Scar suddenly appeared, and students immediately parted out of his way. He was followed by a greater majority of his own students, obviously startled by Naisha's screams.

Scar came to a stop, looking down at Veela in surprise. She saw him, grinned again and lifted up her prize, the viper still hissing its outrage.

“Shehai li Ishvalla!” He breathed then turned around. “Everyone calm down and get back to your classes!” He ordered. Then he turned and motioned one his students to him. “Atash, get me one of the cloth bags the erasers are stored in.”

“For God's sake, Andakar! Just get it out of her hands and kill it!” Naisha burst out as the students began backing further away. 

“This is Veela we're talking about,” Scar remonstrated. “Besides, Doctor Marcoh will need it if it should strike her or one of us. He can make anti-venom!” He shot a stern look at her. “Please Naisha, get your students back into the class room. I'll handle this.”

“You do that!” Naisha fumed, “And you better believe I'm going to have a piece of Taige's hide! How can he teach a child to do that?”

“If its a matter of food for survival, you teach them anything.” Scar growled back. “You should know that!” He looked at Vesya. “Ves, can you get them inside?” 

Vesya, visibly pale, instantly nodded and called out to the younger students. “Playtime's over, everyone inside!”

“Papa?!” Danika asked, worry and fear in her voice. She suddenly appearing at his side and looking at Veela warily. 

“It's all right Danika, just go with Auntie Vesya and get back inside, Veela will be fine.”

“Zhaarad Andakar!” Atash panted as he wove his way through the scattering students, many peering behind them at the sight of Veela still holding the snake. Only she was no longer smiling. She looked bewildered, searching Scar's face as he kept his eyes on her and her capture. Atash held out a brown cloth bag. 

Scar took it from him, “Run up to the hospital, Atash and tell Doctor Marcoh we have a live snake for him. He'll know what to bring.”

“You got it!” Atash spun and sprinted off.

Scar flipped the bag inside out, reaching in to grab the bottom in his hand. He dropped to one knee, looking at Veela.

“Well, laleh, you're just full of surprises aren't you?” He said gently. “Come here and show me what you got.” 

She approached, holding the snake up. Keeping an eye on it, he reached down with a finger and un-coiled the loops of the snake from her around wrist. It tried twisting its head about, still hissing, its mouth open. As it started to writhe, he flipped the bag its head and placed his hand over hers, lightly grasping the back of the snakes head.

“All right, laleh, let go,” He instructed. When she did, he grasped the snake tighter, and flicked his wrist again, the bag dropping right side out over the entire creature, his hand now outside of the bag. With another deft move on his part he had the drawstrings closed on the bag, then he neatly looped the string close to the snakes body to immobilize it as much as possible.

Assured now that it couldn't strike through the bag, he took up the loop near the bags opening and let go of its head. He looked at Veela, who was watching him with sombre eyes. 

Holding the snake away from them, he said. “Listen to me, moppet.” He carefully kept his voice gentle, but firm. “If you see any more snakes in the yard, you come find me or Zhaarana's Vesya or Naisha. You don't try catching them, all right?”

Her eyes flicked away from him momentarily and he could tell she was about to tear up. He smiled faintly. “You're not in any trouble, little moppet, do you understand? It's all right that you caught this one, just don't do it in the yard here again. You let one of us know.” Looking up at him she nodded her head. Then she whispered something to him.

Raising an eyebrow he asked. “What was that?”

She whispered again, reaching to tug on his pant leg.

“You need to speak up, Veela,” he said.

A frown crossed her face and she patted his leg, whispering. He turned his head a bit tapping at his ear with his free hand.

“I can't hear you, laleh?”

“Let it go?” She asked just audibly enough for him to hear her. 

He smiled and shook his head. “We can't do that. We're going to give it to Doctor Marcoh. This snake is going to help the Doctor with people who have been bitten by other snakes. Do you understand?”

She pondered that thought a minute then slowly nodded her head. Then she whispered again. He smirked a little and tapped his ear. “Speak up? I can't hear you when you whisper.”

“Pray?” she asked. “For snake?” 

Scar blinked, his entire face going blank as he stared down at her. 

You could have pushed him over with a feather.

***

He really shouldn't have been surprised.

He sighed, feeling the days exertions drain from him as he relaxed on one of the benches in the backyard. Mattas was stumbling along the bench, his normal mischievous grin on his face. Winry was standing next to his leg, using him to balance, and patting him with a chubby little hand.

It was well after dinner, the harsh desert light was ebbing towards the evening, it was a bit cooler and calm. Danika had disappeared over to Dejan and Naisha's home to play with Mika. Taking advantage of the after dinner lull, Rada had promptly vanished into her sewing room. That left Scar and Taige watching the other three children. Both men had switched to the loose cotton pants and long tunics that Ishvallan men chose to relax in.

He then related to Taige what had occurred in the school yard.

Scars thoughts drifted back to that first morning Taige had stayed in their home. Before doing anything for the day, Scar always rose early for his devotions and exercises. Preferring the morning quiet time for this. He had grown accustomed to Veela toddling out after him. She always stayed quiet, listening to his prayers, then sitting under the honeysuckle to play with the kalibri's while he went through his exercises. 

That portion of his morning involved the more physical aspect of fitness, like his chin-ups and such. He ended with the meditative temple martial art; a slow graceful form of what could easily be sped up to defend or attack someone with. It kept him in top form, but allowed him to think and relax, preparing him for the day. It had been ingrained in him from the very day he had entered the priesthood as a boy.

It therefore came as a shock when he entered his courtyard that morning and found Taige had risen even earlier. Veela was already sitting under the vine and she grinned at him when he appeared. Her father was on the flagstone circle, performing a slightly different version of the same meditative martial art. Moving fluidly and gracefully in a slow circuit around the open patio, he was executing the moves with long ease of practise. Pushing out with the corresponding exhales and pulling in with the inhales. 

As Scar watched with growing realization about what Taige was doing, he also noted a set of scars close to Tiage's hands, around the wrists. The skin was lighter in tone there than the rest of him. Scar frowned, if he wasn't mistaken they looked like something that was caused by metal... 

Taige was just coming around, his arms making a slow sweep at shoulder level before him when he saw Scar standing there, arms folded and his face set with a decidedly unamused look. He completed the movement, drew his arms up and around palms open, before circling and pushing down towards the earth in front of him. He stopped.

“You...” Scar said slowly, definitely noticing the set of matched scars. “Are not even supposed to know how to do that.”

Taige stepped back, putting a fist in his open palm and giving him a slight bow. “Your pardon,” he said. “I meant no insult.”

Scar growled. “How do you even...” he stopped and looked at Taige intently. “Let me guess, you learned that from Saahad Tosca.”

“Yes,” Taige said and dropped his hands. “Ishvalla knows, those were turbulent times and I needed something to help me keep focused. Tosca, I think, just wanted someone to teach. He didn't know if he would ever make it back to Ishval. It took a great deal of time to get out of West Amestris. So he taught me.” He smiled ruefully. 

“In all that time, stuck in the West, we never came across another Ishvallan priest. I have a good idea that they were all rounded up and shipped into Central. I've heard strange theories as to what actually happened to them. As it is, Tosca thought he was the only one left.”

Scar reached up to run his hand down his mouth, letting out a sigh. “I suppose it's just as well,” he rumbled, “These are changing times for Ishvallan culture and traditions.” He came to a decision and stepped onto the flagstone where he looked Taige in the eye. “But if you're going to practice the temple mediation arts in my yard? You're going to do it right.”

From that point, he gave Taige minor instructions on improving his form, and gained himself a sparring partner.

“I'm not surprised,” Taige said, shaking Scar out of his thoughts. He was sitting cross-legged on the flagstones, in front of the bench. He was barefoot, and had one knee bent, with his arm laying across it. He idly ran a length of plaited horsehair through his fingers. Veela sat on the bench behind him, carefully pulling his comb through his wet hair. He glanced over at Scar with a hint of a smile on his face. 

“Tosca encouraged the both of us to focus on prayer. He really believed the little ones have Ishvala's ear a whole lot better than us old sinners.”

Scar snorted softly, he could only but agree. He again noticed the slight scarring around Taige's wrists and the fact they were also around both the man's ankles as well. He frowned in thought.

Taige smiled, tilting his head a bit for Veela to reach. “Once she got the concept? She started praying over every living thing she came across. Who was I to tell her no? She's got a heart bigger than a lot of us do. Despite what's happened to her.”

“Marcoh appreciated the snake. He's always in need of anti-venom. Naisha though?” Scar lifted a shoulder. “She's going to strip some hide off you if she sees you.” He rumbled in good natured warning.

Taige chuckled, reaching over to poke a finger in Mattas' tummy causing the little boy to squeal and stumble his way back towards his father. “Naisha's all right. I'm grateful for what she and Zhaarana Vesya have been able to teach this little one so far. I really couldn't teach her to read properly on the road.”

“But you did teach her how to read the land,” Scar mused, “A little too well!” He added. “You should have seen the looks when she stood in that school yard hefting up that snake. Near as we can figure it had managed to get that far and decided the block pile was a nice place to sun itself.”

Veela, having completed her task with her father's hair, relinquished the comb and climbed up onto her feet. She turned towards Scar, an impish glint in her eyes. 

“Are you supposed to be standing on the bench?” He growled at her as she laid a hand on his shoulder for balance. She only grinned at him, her nose crinkling. She reached up and patted the unruly fringe of hair on his forehead, then giggled. He feinted a move to tickle her and she instantly sidled over to her father.

“Speaking of land...” Taige pondered, twisting around to take Veela in his arms. “Has anyone explored down south of Ishval, towards Aurego at all?”

“Not extensively, yet. We we're mostly concerned with north and eastern regions, because of the river and the ruins.” Scar thought a moment then glanced at Taige. “Then building began in earnest. Why do you ask?”

“The Colonel is going to start letting me condition the horses for long patrols. Thought I might head that way, kill two birds with one stone, so to speak.”

Scar raised an eyebrow at him, curious.

“Condition the horses and get a little exploring in, see how things rest with Southern Amestris and Aurego.” Taige paused a moment. “Do you know if any refugees have been returning from the Aurego regions at all?”

“Not that I am aware of, most of those who've returned are from Amestris,” Scar frowned thoughtfully, idly reaching out and running his hand over Winry's dandelion puff of white hair. “I'm not even certain if any survivors in Aurego even know what's happening here.”

He glanced at Taige, “What are you thinking?”

“I'm thinking, if I encounter any, of passing the word along.” 

“You think you might see anyone? The desert region down there is rather harsh.”

“It's possible,” Taige replied. He looked at Scar and shrugged. “Wouldn't hurt to try anyway.”

“No...” Scar murmured. “Ishvala knows, we've been decimated enough. If there are any refugees down south of us, they'd be welcome to come home.” 

Taige nodded. “Well, if its His will, I'll put a flea in anyone's ear down there that I can. Maybe we'll see more folks coming back.”

Scar sat back against the bench, draping his arms across the back rest. His thoughts turning inwards.

Ishvala knew, they needed more refugees to return home. As he pondered on this he glanced at Taige's scars again.

“I've a personal question.” He said to him. Taige glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “Those scars, on your wrists and ankles, how'd you get those?”

“How'd you get yours?” Taige rumbled back, pointing a finger at his forehead.

“Rock shrapnel, during the war.” Scar replied simply. “And you?”

Taige nodded, looking away from him, still running the horsehair plait through his fingers.

“Manacles.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N I am my own beta reader, any mistakes therefore are mine.
> 
> For words in Ishvalan please check out Capn_hoozit's [Ishvalan Dictionary](http://sons-of-the-desert-fma.tumblr.com/post/64660673693/my-ishvalan-dictionary)
> 
> Okay, those of you who have held out this long.... fasten your seatbelts!

****

## 14.

“Havoc!” Miles called out.

The lanky Amestrian, perked up and turned, glancing through the crowd. He was headed towards a makeshift football field, the original one having been long appropriated for other uses. He spotted Miles approaching and stopped, the toothpick that was lodged in the corner of his mouth seemed to move about with a life of its own.

“Hey Colonel, what's up?” He asked as Miles joined him. “I was just headed over for a pick up game of footie.”

“I just had a couple of questions to ask you and a favour, if I could get one.”

“Oh yeah?”

“I know you have the necessary contacts to move certain merchandise around. And that you can get a hold of things under the radar so to speak.”

“Yeah, and?” Havoc looked at Miles sensing the undertone in the Colonel. He shot an impish grin at him. “Does General Armstrong finally want to shift a few tanks our way yet?”

“Funny,” Miles remarked dryly. “Has anyone approached you at all about illicit items. Or even contraband?”

“You mean like for sale?” Havoc asked, he looked upwards, stroking his goatee, a frown curling his lips downwards. “Not at all, Colonel. Besides, I know enough about that to stay as far away from it as I possibly can. Same as my Dad. Why, something happening at the Fort?”

“Just some nickel and diming that's caught my attention.” Miles replied. “Something's up and its just enough to irritate the crap out of me.” He looked at Havoc. “You seen anything disappearing from your store at all?”

“No, not a whole lot. Nothing to raise an alarm. I'll keep a sharper eye on it though.”

“You're sure of all your sources as well?” Miles asked. “Not selling you fenced goods?”

“You can trust me, Colonel, that shit don't happen at Havoc Sundries. We work too damn hard to make all the right connections for all the right, and quality, goods. We've got a reputation to maintain.”

“I figured as much,” Miles smirked, “Do me a favour though, if anyone approaches you, or you hear of anything, let me know, all right?”

“That I can do...” Havoc grinned. Then another thought crossed his mind. “There is something you might want to keep an eye on, though. And you never heard this from me...”

“What would that be?”

“You're man, Taige. The Corporal? He was just in a day or so ago. Had a Springfield, thirty ought six, bolt action with him. I'm assuming he was assigned one? Seeing's is he's rather handy with them?”

“He was. He's going to be taking a few of the mounts out on longer patrols. Get them used to the conditions. He offered to do a little exploring as he went. What would he come in here for?”

“Ordered himself a Unertl 8x scope and the mounts that go with it. Ahhh...” Jean reminisced, with a grin, “Lieutenant Hawkeye would have loved him!”

“Wait, are you saying he ordered a sniper scope for the rifle? He could have just got one out of inventory.”

“Ah, but not a Unertl...Was he not supposed to?”

“Oh he could. I'd just like to know about when he does!” Miles groused. 

“Ooohhh....” Havoc grinned at him. “Sounds like some ones playing his cards a little too close to his chest?”

“Too damn close. He's not forthcoming with information. It borders on insubordination.” Mile growled.

“But unlike the rail yard incident, he hasn't crossed a single line?”

“Been a model solider...” Miles replied, thinking hard. “There's something off about this guy and I still can't pinpoint it. Besides being a little too independent.”

“Heh! And we all know Colonel Miles hates a mystery,” Havoc chortled, especially at the look Miles shot him.

“A Unertyl huh? That has a hell of a long range sight rating.”

“And how. Best you can get. Just ask me, or Hawkeye!”

“Besides that, did he get anything else?”

“Yeah,” Havoc frowned again, “Kinda weird too. He bought a composition book, an architectural compass and a couple of #2 pencils.”

***

On his first patrol out Taige headed north and east, back along the same track he used to reach his future home site in Lejia. He couldn't help but notice that not one but two vehicles had been out this way. One was easy to figure out, it had stopped before reaching the campsite and had beem from when the Colonel and Scar had come to get Veela. The second had to be the vehicle the chieftain of Kanda was driving to get up into the mountains.

Taige stopped long enough to dismantle his tent, packing it and the few other odds and ends that had been left behind on the horse he had selected as a pack animal. Then he just stood and looked at stakes he'd driven in with the vague outline of what had once been the layout of his own family's old home. 

A stiff breeze was blowing, causing the sand and bits of dried bric-a-brac to fly, occasionally stinging where it hit exposed flesh. Taige sighed. Who was he kidding? When was he ever going to get the time, or the materials, to build a home? He sure as hell couldn't stay camping out now that he was back in uniform. Then there was Veela. They could not stay in Scar's home much longer. He could see about trying to get back on the list for homes in Ishval proper but that was going to be months of waiting before anything could happen.

He looked around, listening to the wind a moment and the rushing of the river before turning and climbing into the saddle of the Westfalan bay. As he settled in, gathering up the reins and the lead rope, his hearing caught the sounds of a truck coming from the directions of the mountain track. He headed for a wide area the 'road' cut through and reined to a stop. Kicking his right foot loose from the irons, he swung his foot up, letting it dangle over the withers of the horse and relaxed, draping his arms on his bent leg and waited for the truck to come to him.

He studied the driver, the man Scar had identified as Stanno Dreva. He was of the same height as Miles and himself, solid, not unhandsome, but there was something in his features, a harshness that belied something in his nature. A shrewdness that Taige took notice of. He also appeared to have been labouring hard, at whatever endeavour he had been on.

The truck slowed, and he watched Stanno lower the window before coming to a stop, cutting the engine off. 

“Well,” Stanno said, looking at Taige with some interest. “This isn't something I run into every day.”

Taige smirked, snorting a little in amusement. “I reckon not,” he replied.

“What brings Amestris' finest out this far?” Stanno asked, not bothering to hide the hint of sarcasm in his voice. He looked Taige's uniform up and down, noting that instead of the regulation combat boots he had on military issue riding ones. He also couldn't help but notice the rifle in its scabbard.

“Just checking over my home site, and packing a few things.”

“Home site?” Stanno frowned, “Clear out here? What the hell for?”

“I used to live out here,” Taige nodded in the direction of the red flagged ruins. “Out there in that mess. I aim to resettle out here sometime in the future.”

“I don't think I caught your name?” Stanno asked.

“Didn't offer it yet,” Taige replied, keeping his voice amicable. “What about you?”

Stanno snorted, a smirk twisting his lip. “I know where you've been staying. I'm surprised his Honour the Khorovar didn't supply you with it.” 

“He did, but I thought I'd let you volunteer that information.” Taige leaned over, holding a hand out. “Name's Eamon Taige. You must be Stanno Drevo. The Kanda Chieftain? I understand you're a master carpenter as well?”

“You're understanding a little bit too much. Why are you asking?” Stanno looked at the offered hand with the faintest hint of a sneer on his lips.

Seeing that Stanno wasn't budging, Taige dropped his hand and resettled back into his relaxed seat on the horse.

“Judging from the tools in the back of your truck, you've been breaking up kalcheh to plant oaks up yonder. Practising the trade? From acorn to table?” 

“You're well informed. What's it to you?” Stanno asked suspiciously.

“Interested in a bit of trade?” Taige asked and did not fail to catch the interested gleam in Stanno's eyes.

“From you? You're at the beck and call of Colonel Miles, what could you possibly offer? I know what kind of pay they dole out to you enlisted men. It ain't a hell of a lot.” 

“Who said anything about money?” Taige asked.

“Well if there isn't any sort of payment involved here I'm not interested.” Stanno said flatly.

“How about labour?”

Stanno shot a wary look at him. 

Taige smiled, lifting his palms up. “I got two good hands. Worked a few logging camps up in Northern Amestris. I can handle a cross cut saw. I can also break kalcheh all the day long. You're obviously going to be harvesting lumber up further in those hill. Need a set of hands to help?”

“For what?” Stanno asked, still suspicious.

“The use of your tools, and some fence posts.” Taige nodded towards the old campsite. “I need to dig me some post holes. I want to get a paddock set up.”

“A paddock?” Stanno let out a sardonic chuckle. “You must be joking.”

“My family's trade has always been about horses, I intend to get set back up.”

“With what?” Stanno shot back, scepticism firmly in his voice.

“Some of the fort's stock for now, which'll need retraining for this place. Istiqan's, if I can find them again.”

“Istiqan's? They haven't been seen around here in almost a decade!”

“I take it you've seen no evidence of horses up in the hills then?” Taige asked.

“Other than dried horseshit? Not a damn thing. You're barking up the wrong tree there.”

“Reckon I'll try down south then,” Taige studied him for a moment, “What'd'ya say? Labour for the use of tools and fence posts?”

Stanno looked him up and down. “You don't exactly have yourself a sterling reputation around the fort. How the hell do I know your trustworthy?” 

“Labour first, tools later,” Taige replied. 

Stanno eyed him suspiciously. 

“You figure someday opening up a mill out there?” Taige asked, nodding towards the mountains.

“Why, you offering labour for that too?” Stanno asked. 

Taige shrugged. “Possibly. Or work something else out. Know anyone who can get their hands on mill parts?”

“What? Not going through everyone's favourite Ammie for supplies?” Stanno asked derisively.

“Doesn't hurt to shop around. If Havoc is the cheapest, I'd go with him. If it's someone else... ?” Taige shrugged.

Stanno gave him a sour smirk. “The thought's crossed my mind about a mill, many times. Right now I'm a one person operation.”

“Well if you should change your mind... I have a few contacts in North Amestris who might be able to provide mill parts. Just need someone who can move them down here.”

Stanno, scowled and glanced out his windshield, his thoughts churning. “Other than Havoc, the only others I know are Ahcran and Deuel, but I wouldn't waste that much time with them. Lazy, drunk bastards. The pair of them. More interested in crawling into a bottle than doing actual work.”

“May as well go with Havoc then,” Taige sighed, then shifted in the saddle dropping his leg back over the proper side of the horse before slipping his foot back into the iron. He gathered up the reins.

“I'm still in a bargaining mood, we got a deal or not?” He asked. 

Stanno glanced at him, still scowling. He reached over and keyed the ignition over. “I want to think about it.” He growled. 

“Fair enough. You know where to find me.” Taige smiled amicably and backed the horses away from the truck as Stanno down shifted.

Stanno just gave him a derisive snort and pulled away. 

Taige sat a moment, watching the truck drive off and a slow smile spread across his lips. 

***

It was as neat a piece of work as Miles had yet to see. Or even had hoped for.

He'd handled nearly all of the incoming intelligence at Fort Briggs, disseminating the most valuable information from the dross. He had helped compile the most accurate maps and data available regarding the regions around Briggs, Northern Amestris and a good sized portion of Southern Drachma. All areas where the Briggs Mountain Patrol had managed to get. He'd even gone on some of those explorations.

He sat back in his chair and stared at a newly drafted map spread out on the table along with a concise report to go along with it. It was the north-eastern border of Ishval up to and including the river Halik. The source of the Halik and its course through Ishval was already recorded thanks to the geological surveys Brigadier Mustang had ordered before the river's release. This new map was the area north of that. 

Marked out, in logistical detail, were landmarks and possible locations for future outposts and an assessment of available water. Just the exact sort of information needed to set up the Fort's overall territory for the Province of Ishval and where patrols needed to be situated.

Miles stroked the corners of his mouth, studying the map again. Taige had returned the day previous, dropping off his information to the cartographers then writing up his report for him. He'd then spent one day off to be with his child and left for a western and southerly trip towards the Auregan border that morning, as ordered. He had made sure this new map and his reports were on Miles' desk before he left.

Taige's patrols were to be routine, and generally in mind of getting the horses used to the heat and terrain. Summer was coming and it would be getting ungodly hot soon. It was also one way of keeping Taige and Bryant away from one another. Miles had kept a wary eye on Bryant, who as playing it safe, for now. Miles' own observations didn't detect any uneasiness with the troops. Especially after a severe dressing down he'd given regarding theft. For the moment things had settled down.

What Miles had not expected from Taige's first independent patrol was so much information. It left him in two minds. One was glad, hell he was nearly ecstatic, for the information. The other was borderline angry that his compatriot was acting independently far outside of his purview. 

What the hell was with this guy? Most soldiers generally were hard workers yet were still known to slack off somehow... It's the way things were, unless watched closely. However, very few went far above their station. 

Miles' lips twisted in a sardonic smirk. Not unlike himself, hence the reason he was where he was now; Commander of his own garrison.

As he sat and contemplated the treasure trove of information Miles heard a slight commotion in the reception room. Benji was addressing someone who had come in and after a few moments bantering the Sergeant Major appeared at his doorway.

“Sir?” He asked. 

“Yeah?” Miles asked glancing up.

“I apologize for the intrusion, sir. There's a courier here from Central, has some classified documents he says he needs your signature on. Something from Major Alex Armstrong?”

“Ah yes!” Miles said and pushed himself back from the desk. He rose and joined Benji out in the reception room. He was greeting by the interesting sight of a Sergeant standing in front of Benji's desk with an attaché case literally handcuffed to his wrist. He instantly came to attention.

Miles saluted him back. “As you were,” he said.

“Thank you sir,” the man replied and set the case on Benji's desk. “Major Armstrong tasked me with delivering this to you with the understanding that you would sign for them?”

“Yes, I will,” Miles replied as the man manipulated the scrolling lock on the case. With a snap, he opened up the case and retrieved a receipt book and pen which he handed over to Miles. As he signed, the man pulled out three files, one of considerable thickness. 

“Major Armstrong wished me to convey his regards and to thank you again for allowing him to be of service.” He smiled and handed the dossier's to Miles, who handed back the receipt book. “He also asked me to convey his regrets.”

“Regrets?” Miles asked as the man tossed the receipt book into the case and snapped it shut. 

He nodded, retrieving a key from his pocket and unlatched the handcuff from his wrist. He smiled ruefully, rubbing his hand. “He said, 'It will cause him some distress'.” The Sergeant looked relieved to have delivered his sensitive information.

“Oh really?” Benji asked, glancing at the files that Miles had tucked under his arm. He'd hardly seen anything phase the Colonel. 

“That's what he wished to convey.”

“Well, tell Major Armstrong I appreciate his cooperation on compiling this for me.” Miles replied. “Are you planning on staying in the Fort for the night or heading back to Central?”

“Heading back, sir. I drove down.”

“All right then. Head on over to the mess hall and get something to eat. Even try and get into the city and have a look around if you like.” Miles glanced at Benji. “I'm going to be in there for a while, I don't want to be disturbed, unless it's a communication from higher ups.”

“Yes sir,” Benji recognized a dismissal when he heard one. He smiled at the Sergeant. “C'mon, Sarge, I'll walk you over to the mess tent.”

Miles waited until they were out of the room before returning to his desk. He sat and contemplated the files a moment seeing that the thinner of the three was Sergeant Bryant's file. 

Miles flicked it open, recognizing much of the detail as to what he already knew about the man. Bryant had a relatively unblemished record, a few issues here and there in his early days but then nothing extraordinary. There was attached a second file behind all the others with a note from Major Armstrong telling him that these were obtained outside of military channels.

Mile's eyebrow rose with interest. 

From a very early age, Sergeant William Bryant had a juvenile record of considerable length. Mostly for theft, assault and petty bribery. It finally reached a point where, as an 18 year old, he'd been given the option of jail or conscription into the Amestrian Military. No guesses on what he chose. After a few initial infractions on his military records, nothing further was added. His records were accounted for and when opportunity came for a transfer to Fort Ishval as stable master, it had been granted.

By Lt. Colonel Rupert Armstrong.

Miles sat back and stared at that for a moment then flicked back a few pages. He smirked and shook his head. All of Bryant's reports and reviews from his last infraction going forward had been signed off by first a Captain, then a Major, R. Armstrong. 

“Tsk tsk tsk...” Miles smiled slowly to himself. “Careless to get your hands a bit dirty there Rupert old pal,” he murmured knowing that the Lt. Colonel was a rubber stamped bigot in the mold of his father. Question now was did Rupert ban Bryant to Ishval or was he planted there?

Mulling that over he slid the second file out, flipped the cover over and stopped. 

Stamped prominently and diagonally across the title page, in red, was the word 'Absconded'. He lifted the page and he sat back abruptly. 

On the inside cover was a sharp black and white photograph. The man in the picture had a hard glare in his eyes, anger radiating from him. Dangerously thin, almost skeletal, the man's face was haggard and unsmiling. He was barefoot, and wore what was then oversized, prison issued clothes. He held a serial number placard in both hands. He also wore a leather belt with attached dual chains leading to cuffs on his hands and shackles on his ankles. His hair was loose, and very obviously white in the picture. 

Miles was staring at a starved version of Corporal Taige. 

Miles pulled the photo down revealing the arrest warrants and 'rap' sheet for Warrant Officer Eamon Taige. He was to be arrested and immediately sent to Central Command as an escapee and a traitor.

The warrant had been issued by Lt. General Raven. 

Miles glanced at the date. 

1908\. Of course. The decommissioning of all Ishvallans officers was under the trumped up accusation that Ishval was being supplied arms from Aurego. Aurego had been a pain in the ass of Amestris for as long as anyone could remember and when civil war had broken out in Ishval, both Ishval and Aurego had quickly been blamed.

Miles let out a disgusted huff, looking away from the horrifying photo of Taige.

Raven. Craven Raven.

Major General Olivier Armstrong had taken care of that asshole at Briggs and Miles personally knew he now formed a permanent part of the fort's floor. He was also one of the inner circle of conspirator's at Central who helped with the disastrous events of the Promised Day. Miles' lips curled in distaste. He read who had requested the warrants. He wasn't surprised to see Hamilcar Armstrong's name, only he was -back then- at the rank of Lt. Colonel. He had obviously forwarded the warrants for Taige's arrest on to a superior. 

The fact that Raven wanted Taige sent immediately to Central instead of back to an interment camp spoke volumes.

Setting aside the internment record for the moment, Miles grabbed the thicker dossier and began reading.

What he initially learned left his anger rising.

What he learned as he further delved into Taige's files drained the colour from his face and sent him into a cold sweat, despite Ishval's heat.


	16. Chapter 16

****

## 15.

It had been the tiniest germ of an idea.

It wasn't even guaranteed to work. If there was one thing Taige had learned in his lifetime though, sometimes the littlest ideas often bore the most fruit. Hence what prompted him to offer his 'work' to Stanno Dreva.

A little digging amongst some of the tavern patrons in Ishval had yielded --to Taige's promptings--most of Dreva's story and the underpinnings to the strain in his dealings with Scar and Miles.

Taige's roadside conversation with Stanno had lead the chieftain of Kanda to warn his former cronies to watch themselves. Avaricious as Stanno seemed to be, he was not about to take any chances of letting his already shaky reputation be further damaged. His vanity outweighing his greed. As Taige suspected, Stanno was looking out for himself and he had washed his hands of his former 'friends', leaving them to their own devices.

Taige shifted. He was lying on a second story roof of an abandoned building in a section of ruins due west of Ishval proper in the uncleared portions of Daliha. In his hands was the Unertl scope he'd ordered. He focused it, not unlike a telescope and brought into its cross-hairs a nearly complete structure deep inside the ruins to the south There were still vast areas needing to be declared safe all around Ishval. The centre of Ishval being the primary focus of reconstruction. What happened elsewhere was either frowned upon, or unnoticed.

Taige smirked to himself. Into his sight, Ahcran emerged from behind a burlap sheet being used to cover a door followed by Deuel and Bryant. He had kept up a surreptitious tracking of the Ishvalans and they had eventually led him to what he believed was where they stored the things they had acquired for resale. Either through out and out theft, or Bryant's bribery tactics against the lower ranked soldiers. 

His patience had been rewarded.

He watched as they split up, Bryant heading off in one direction, no doubt towards where he had a horse and the two Ishvallans heading back into town. He pulled back and slipped the Unertl inside his boot and turned to pull a saddle bag to him. He drew out the composition book and a pencil.

For the next several minutes he detailed the new information he compiled and waiting until he knew the other three individuals were a good ways off. Then he slipped his equipment away, shouldered the saddle pack and made his way back to the ground level. His suspicions were confirmed. 

The room, what once was someone's living room, was loaded with contraband of all sorts. Most of it had come from the fort but others from different sources. Taige shook his head, heaving a sigh before slipping back out of the building. It was nothing but petty theft to supply booze money for a couple of drunks. Not to mention stroking the ego of a sadistic officer, who was bent on ruining the reputation of a new commander.

With a sigh Taige threaded his way through the streets and alleys to where he had left his horses. Mulling over just what to do with this information. It would give him something to work out as he headed for the western border of Ishval. 

***

Sergeant Major Benjamin was probably the only soldier in Fort Ishval who could even come close to reading what the fort's formidable commander was feeling. Even he had to admit though that when Miles bellowed his name from the temporary office set up that something was far from well.

“Sir?” He asked as Miles emerged out of the office at a hurried pace. He'd put his old snow goggles on, a sure sign something was agitating him. Miles' mantle of cold calm had settled between them like a wall. However, this time there seemed to be something unsettling creeping past that wall.

“Get my riding gear together, Sergeant Major, then get my mare into her stall,” Miles clipped out. “I'm leaving you in charge of the fort. I need to stop in town to speak to Vesya then I am heading out to find Corporal Taige. I shouldn't be gone all that long. While I am gone I want you to keep an eye on Sergeant Bryant. Nothing overt. Keep it discreet. Don't let him know.” Miles was curt, succinct and straight to the point.

“Sir!” 

“If Eastern or Central Command calls, tell them I went out on an inspection of the border and that I will be back shortly. Are we clear?”

“As a bell sir. Riding gear, mare in stall, discreet watch and command of the fort,” Benji watched as Miles strode rapidly towards the car pool. “If I may be so bold, Colonel?”

“What?” Miles nearly snapped. 

“Havoc caught up with me while showing our guest around Ishval. He wanted me to impart some information to you.”

Miles looked sharply at him. “And?”

“He says Dreva came by the store, inquiring about how one would go about shipping milling parts into Ishval from North Amestris. Dreva claims Corporal Taige knows of a source for these parts and wondered how we could get them.”

Miles stared hard at Benjamin for a moment. “That's just bloody terrific!” He muttered. “I've got one solider with a juvenile record as long as my arm for assault and theft and another who was up to his ass in Military Intelligence. He was sent to the Mawestown Internment Camp in West Amestris where he escaped. I have his arrest warrant on my desk. He was charged with absconding from custody and, get this, treason!”

“Military Intelligence?” Benji exclaimed. “Treason?!”

“Icing on the cake?” Miles added as he strode his way towards the trucks. “He was accused of running arms from Aurego to Ishval. And now your telling me he wants to get mill parts shipped in here?”

Benji stopped in his tracks and stared at Miles. “Shit! How much of this are you believing?”

“Considering that Western Command is the source? Not a hell of a lot but what bothers me? His final assignment for MI in 1908 was to obtain the arrest warrants for a newly promoted Major and to either divert them into the hands of his handler or destroy them. His last message was and I quote, 'Unable to deliver. Information destroyed. Get Major to the North. Fox wants him in Central Prison asap', unquote.”

Benji stared at Miles. “Fox?”

“Lieutenant General Fox. He was one of the conspirators in Central Command, died during the Promised Day battle.” 

“Good god that was you! That Major was you, wasn't it? They wanted you arrested!?” Benji stared at Miles.

“Western Command, through Central, had all Ishvallan soldiers arrested. According to Taige's files, I was days from being sent to Central Prison. I've wondered for years why I was jerked out so abruptly and shipped North. Now I know...”

Benji shook his head, trying to take everything into account, “What about Taige's handler? Who was he?”

Miles gave him a cold smile. “He was Lt. Colonel Maes Hughes. Although in 1908, before the war, he was a Captain. He was murdered the Autumn before the Promised Day. Posthumously promoted to Brigadier General. That guy had his fingers deep into Military Intelligence.”

“You've got no way of verifying this guy's story.”

“Other than the records I have now? Conveniently kept in Western Command's tender loving, Ishvallan purging, care for the last nine years? I have no other proof. All I know is I've got a conscripted ex-offender preying on my soldiers and another who is now running loose in Ishval with a sniper rifle and serious history of collecting intelligence and using it.”

Miles turned from Benjamin and began striding away, heading for the car pool where the Armstrong vehicle had been parked. “What I want to know is which one of the two is worse?!” 

The two men split apart and both failed to see Bryant slip around the back of one of several parked trucks.

A sour look crossed his features as he waited, watching Sergeant Major Benjamin striding rapidly back into the Fort heading for the barn. Miles climbed into the car, firing the ignition and left.

Bryant hesitated, his blue eyes lit with fire. Waiting a few minutes more, he slipped out from behind the truck and non nonchalantly strolled up to where several soldiers were finishing up loading a truck for a trip into Ishval. He commandeered himself a seat up front for a ride into town. His fingers rapidly tapping on the knucks in his pocket, revealing his agitation.

He'd heard all of Miles' last statement to the Sergeant Major. So the Ishvallan Colonel knew his past records. Something had to be done to keep him in check. Things were happening too fast, and Bryant was determined he wasn't going to be caught without some sort of insurance for protection.

***

Naisha glanced up from where she sat. The children were hunkered over their desks working on a writing assignment and at least for the next few minutes would be quiet. In a manner of speaking. She raised an eyebrow when Vesya slipped back into the classroom.

Vesya had stepped out a moment and upon her return met Naisha's gaze. She just shrugged her shoulders with a rueful smile and looked down at Veela, who was staring at her paper, awkwardly holding a fat pencil in her hand. 

A scuff from someone's boots caught the little girl's attention before Vesya heard it and she looked up, her scarlet eyes wide with apprehension. Vesya turned as Miles, wearing his dark glasses, appeared, reaching up to tap on the open door, but stopped when Vesya saw him. She shot a perplexed smile his way and crouched next to Veela. 

Ever since Miles had had to catch her out in the Lejia ordinance zone, Veela distrusted him. 

Vesya reassured the little girl that everything was fine and rose. There was a minimal amount of curiosity from some of the students and Naisha as Vesya stepped outside of the classroom.

“Miles?” She asked, confused at seeing him in the school yard at this time of the day. 

He nodded his head towards where he could just see Veela, eyeing him. “She still doesn't like me does she?” He smiled at his wife. 

“It's not that,” Vesya said patiently, trying to hide a smile. “She's like that around Naisha too. She'll come around. You've just been too busy for her to get to know you.” She frowned and laid a hand on his chest, “But what is it? Why are you here? What's going on?”

“Nothing's wrong. I just needed to see you for a moment.” He took her hand, drawing her away from the door. “Something's come up at the Fort. I'm going to be very late coming home tonight. I may not be home at all, but I will be back by morning if that happens. I just wanted you to know so you don't worry.” 

She was frowning, gazing up at his stern features. “What is it Miles, what's happening?”

“I need to meet with Corporal Taige out on the west border. Since there's no roads out there I have to ride so its going to take a bit of extra time.” Miles saw the worry in her eyes and reached up to rest the backs of his fingers on her cheek. He frowned. “Are you all right? You look a little... I don't know... pale?”

“I think I ate something that disagreed with me. I feel fine now, just a little peaky. I'll be all right.” She smile up at him, resting a hand on one of the sharp spikes of his sideburns. “But what about you? You seem preoccupied?”

“I'm trying to run a fort, preoccupation comes with the territory.” He said and gave her a smile. “Some information came to my attention and I need to consult with Taige about it. He's on patrol out west. Don't worry about me. I came straight here to tell you and to get a few things from the house. Then I'm heading out.”

He gazed at her a moment longer, a slight frown appearing between his eyes. “You sure you're all right?”

“Of course!” She rose on her tiptoes and kissed him. “Just be careful, okay?”

“You know it,” He said, returning her attentions briefly before breaking off for proprieties sake. No sense in setting the school yard talking. “Don't worry. I'll be back before you know it.”

He gave her one last quick peck on the cheek and turned, striding out of the school yard. Vesya turned and was met at the door by Naisha.

“What was that all about?”

“He's going to be out all night from the sounds of it. Doesn't want me to worry.”

“Oh hey, you know what that means!” Naisha said. Vesya eyed her uncertainly.

“Miles is gone. Dejan is still on his book tour. We can have a girl's night out!”

“Ohh, I don't know Nai. I think some of that kushuei I ate last night disagreed with me. I kind of just want to go home and sleep.”

“I thought you looked a little green around the edges,” Naisha looked at her. 

“I feel fine now, just a bit tired. Once I emptied everything out. I didn't think anything was wrong with the kushuei. I guess it showed me!” 

“Speaking of showing,” Naisha turned and poked her nose back in the door, watching the children as they practised their letters. “Has Vee's writing improved at all?”

Vesya shot a rueful glance at her. “A little... She seems to be having trouble holding the pencils. I'm wondering if she's left handed.”

“I'm wondering more than that too. Have you noticed how the children treat her since that snake business?”

Vesya frowned. “They haven't been mean to her have they? Danika would nip that in the bud for her!”

Naisha smirked. “She won't tolerate anyone treating people badly just because they're different. No, this is something else. Our little moppet probably hasn't noticed it in the slightest, she's such a solitary little thing.”

“What's been going on?” Vesya glanced around Naisha to check on Veela who was attempting to copy a letter on her sheet with mixed results.

“The students are avoiding her. Staying completely away. Danika is literally the only one who interacts with her and I am certain its because they are staying under the same roof together. She understands her more.”

“Staying away because?”

“I heard whispers that they think she's cursed.”

“Oh that's ridiculous!” Vesya exclaimed, then slapped a hand over her mouth at Naisha's look of remonstration. 

“I know it is. You know it is. Any reasonable adult will know it is!” She hissed, “But these are children and there are a lot of people around here who are quite superstitious, despite all we learn about Ishvala from the priests. Veela may not give a hoot about people avoiding her, but it shouldn't happen nonetheless!”

“No you're right, it shouldn't. But what should we do to stop it? Veela won't let just anyone near her.  
She has to come around to them.”

“I know, that's what's frustrating. It's always on her terms. Look how she reacts to Miles, he's harmless... well,” Naisha frowned stroking her lips. “For the most part he's harmless.”

Vesya looked at her sister with dismay. “What's that supposed to mean?” She demanded.

Naisha grinned. “Everyone knows how terrified the soldiers are of him. And the fact they wouldn't have it any other way! I mean, c'mon Ves, Miles may be polite, charming, and calm as ice but we all know he'd be as scary as Andakar if he ever cut loose. Look what he did to Stanno!”

Vesya's hand flew up, stopping Naisha from going on. “Don't remind me of that!”

“I'm just sayin'...” Naisha grinned at her sister. “Seriously though, we need to somehow stop people from thinking Veela's cursed. She's got enough issues, being so far behind in school as she is. Ostracism is the last thing she needs.”


	17. Chapter 17

****

## 16.

“Papa!” Danika cried out, and dashed ahead into the crowd. Vesya smiled, gripping the hand of Veela as they slowly made their way through the crowds of parents and students. They were at the edge of the markets, making their way home towards Jasmine Court.

A great mix of people filled the markets entryway, Ishvallan and Amestrian alike, civilian and soldiers, adults and children. With school out a lot of the parents killed two birds with one stone on the way back to their homes. Loading up on goods and letting the children help carry them.

Vesya had other plans as well. Veela needed more exposure to crowds and she wanted to see for herself what Naisha was going on about. As she walked slowly through the lingering groups of chattering, laughing, and singing people, she watched the reactions. It came mostly from her countrymen, who saw who she was with and how they discreetly, but obviously, avoided getting anywhere near Veela. Dismayed, Vesya was wondering how to address the situation when she spotted Scar ahead of them. Danika had seen him at the same time and with a spurt of joy, ran up to catch her father's hand, swinging it back and forth and chattering at him. 

He was listening to her, his head tipped her way, with faint amusement on his face as he stopped and waited for Vesya to join them. 

Neither one noticed Bryant hanging far back and watching them surreptitiously.

“Andakar!” She greeted with a smile. 

“Ves...” he rumbled back and looked down at Veela. “How's our little moppet?” 

“Oh dear...” Vesya sighed. “You're not going to be too happy with what I found out from Naisha this afternoon.”

“Oh?” He asked, dropping a hand gently on Veela's head as she clung to Vesya hand. She reached out and gripped a tight fist full of Scar's tunic with her other. He almost tripped as she tried gluing herself to his leg. She was looking anxiously about. “Did she try catching scorpions this time?”

“No no! Not that!” Vesya remonstrated softly, smiling and shuddering involuntarily. She never wanted to see a sight like that!

“Then what would it be?”

The foursome began slowly making their way through the crowds.

“Nai thinks that the other students are ostracising her because of that snake catching business in the school yard.” Vesya said.

Scar looked at her, an eyebrow lifted in query. “Ostracized?”

“Like she's cursed.”

“That's ridiculous!” He said flatly.

“But it true,” Danika suddenly piped up. “Mika overheard some of the boys in her class call her a cadi.”

“A witch?” Scar's features turned abruptly grim. “She's six!” He protested then his voice dropped into a growl, “If I catch anyone trying to...”

“Andakar,” Vesya warned nodding at Veela. “Look how they part around us in this crowd.”

“That's because it's, Papa,” Danika chirped, grinning up at Scar. “Everyone moves out of his way!”

“But normally they also come and greet you as well, look at them now.” Vesya said, pitching her voice to his ear. “They're just watching us and their focus is on her.” She squeezed Veela's hand reassuringly.

Scar said nothing at the moment. It was true, he rarely walked through the markets without receiving greetings or people coming up and asking him questions, whether to debate or get clarification. It was subtly different today. As he pondered on this a moment he caught sight of someone ahead of them in the crowd. 

“I'll put a stop to this,” he murmured to Vesya and then called out... “Saahad Bozidar!”

Ahead of them, the current leader of the Ishvallan priesthood heard the familiar voice calling his name and stopped. He just happened to be at an intersection in the market.

“Andakar!” The old priest greeted, his moustache twitching as he smiled. “Hello Zharaana Miles,” he added with amusement then set a hand on Danika's head. “And our little blackbird!” Veela had stepped behind Scar's legs, still clutching Vesya's hand and Scar's tunic. 

Bozidar was about to say something to her when he caught a glimpse of something in Scar's face. Scar leaned forward, whispering something quickly in the old priest's ear then he stood back. 

Bozidar smiled understanding then crouched down in front of Veela.

“And this must be the little moppet we've been hearing so much about.” He smiled gently at her and Vesya tried to pull her away from Scar's legs.

“It's all right, Vesya, let her stay if it brings her comfort.” He looked back at the little girl. “I can't even recall the last time I saw an Ishvallan with curls.” He smiled gently and held up a hand to her. “Ho'avaat, laleh!” He greeted kindly.

She looked at him with apprehension a moment. 

“This is Saahad Bozidar, Veela.” Scar said. “You remember Saahad Tosca?”

Veela looked up at him and then at Bozidar. “Saahad?” She whispered, gazing into his face.

“Yes, Saahad,” Bozidar smiled. 

She let go of Vesya's hand, and pointed upwards, looking at the sky then back at Bozidar. “Ishvala?” she whispered.

Bozidar blinked, glanced at Scar, then looked at Veela again. “Yes, laleh, a priest of Ishvala.”

She regarded him a moment longer then a shy smile appeared on her face. She took his hand in hers and raised it to her forehead. “Ho'avaat,” she said softly. 

Vesya could hardly believe what she was seeing. She looked at Scar seeing a knowing glint in his red eyes. There was a very faint smirk on his lips.

Bozidar chuckled, looking at both adults as he let go of Veela's hand and stood up. He held his hands out to her, palms up. Veela instantly looked up at Scar, who just nodded and gave her a little smile of his own.

She let go of his tunic and Bozidar picked her up, perching her on his hip. He immediately began talking to her softly in Ishvalan and she stared back intently. 

Veela whispered something in return before she reached up and tapped one end of his moustache. 

Bozidar laughed. He patted her head. “Bless you little one. Ishvala must really have a hand of grace on you!”

Vesya bubbled out in laughter, “Andakar, you are brilliant!” Then she gasped and added, “You too Saahad!”

“Not me,” Scar said good naturedly, looking around at the whispering crowd. “Veela has a soft spot for Ishvala.” He said it loud enough for others to hear. The three adults couldn't fail to see the little rippling of whispering behind hands begin in the square then begin trickling away into the crowds. 

“I am sure he has a soft spot for her as well!” Bozidar said. “I've been hearing all kinds of interesting things about you, laleh.” She seemed happy enough, clutching a fist full of his chuva, the coral and black sash worn by many Ishvallans. The group continued walking.

“I've yet to meet the father.” Bozidar glanced at his former pupil.

“Colonel Miles has been keeping him pretty busy,” Scar said. “Especially since that rail yard incident.”

“Ah yes, I have heard about that,” Bozidar remarked. “Seems to have been settled all right?”

“Oh yes,” Vesya replied, “Apparently the Corporal is very good with the horses. Miles says his riding has improved a lot since Taige started giving him lessons.”

“I understood he was from Lejia, same as Saahad Tosca?”

“Yes,” Scar replied. “From the outer district. His family raised horses. He mentioned that they were once tied to the royalty through the Wahiran Istiqan's they raised.”

“Oh really?” Bozidar looked very interested and smiled at Veela. “Your Papa's family raised horses for the Princes of old?”

Veela nodded her head solemnly. Bozidar glanced at Scar. “I really must meet with him.”

“I've heard a few of the stories. You do need to hear them.” Scar rumbled. 

“There's not a lot of refugees from Lejia just yet. I think the records of the outer dwelling families may have been irreparably lost. Not just Lejia either. There's precious few from Maazra and Wahir as well.”

“Taige mentioned seeing if there may be refugees down in Southern Amestris and Aurego. He's patrolling along the western border just now, heading south.”

“Oh Ishvala, if such a thing were true we must help them return!” Bozidar said.

“That's what he said. I can only concur.” Scar frowned, “There's precious few refugees making it out of Western Amestris. Most of them here now are from Eastern and Central, and a scattering from up North.”

“There's a few from Xerxes as well,” Vesya added, “One of the students mentioned that an uncle and his family just came from there via Youswell.”

That seemed to please Bozidar. “Ishvala bless them for their efforts to make it home.” He slowed in his walking, “Ah, here's my destination. I need to visit one of the old baatas.” He looked at Veela as he stopped and set a hand on her head. He smiled and whispered a blessing over her.

Veela smiled back at him, her nose crinkling and she reached up to pat his very bald head. She giggled. 

Bozidar chuckled, swung her back down to her feet and she promptly latched onto a fistful of Scar's tunic. “You mind Zhaarad Andakar, little moppet,” He glanced over at Danika. “Same to you too, little blackbird!”

“I do, Saahad!”

He parted from them there, weaving his way through the crowds of people. Vesya offered Veela her hand, which she took. The four were about to start moving again when there came the sound of an enormous crash very close by them.

Vesya jumped letting out a gasp and Scar's head whipped around.

A vendor's stall with tables loaded full of fruits, had a stand collapse and another one falling. All manner of fruit began rolling, dropping and smashing onto the ground. Instant havoc reigned. The noise grew deafening as shouts and accusations rang through the market. People were scrambling everywhere. 

It was sheer pandemonium.

Scar turned, looking at both Danika and Veela, “You two.” He said firmly. “Stay with Aunt Vesya!”

Then he instantly waded into the thick of the mess, calling out orders and attempting to bring the chaos under control. 

Vesya, clinging to Veela's hand, looked around in horror, feeling Danika come up along side of her. She was about to reach out for her hand when something very large, moving at speed, caught her low on her hips, literally lifted her off the ground and slammed her into the street.

Stars swam in her vision and Vesya heard shouts and screams of outrage. Disorientated, Vesya tried twisting to her side, attempting to get to her feet and she looked at her hand. People began trying to help her get up. She shook her head, staring around a little dazed, her eyes fixing on Danika who was rooted into place looking terrified.

Scar suddenly filled her vision. “Vesya!” He snapped, reaching up to push her hair out of the way. He was kneeling in front of her, reaching up to cup her face in his hands. She was stunned, staring at him in confusion, completely missing the flinch he made when his hands contacted her skin. 

He froze a second, staring at her, trying to sort out what he was feeling in his hands then snapped himself back to attention. “Are you all right? Vesya? Say something!” 

She was shaking, trying to nod her head and looking at Danika, who was holding onto the belt portion of Scar's chuva and looking around frantically.

“Papa?” She whimpered, leaning into her father. “Where's Vee? Papa?”

“Vesya?” Scar asked again, his attention split between Danika and Vesya. She looked at him with a growing sense of dread rising in her.

“Veela...” she gasped out at last, suddenly feeling pain coursing up her hip where she had landed on the street. “Veela!” She looked around, feeling panic welling up inside her. “Andakar? Where's Veela!?” She tried scrambling to her feet.

She felt him grasp her elbows, lifting her up, holding her, steadying her. She grabbed his arms, clutching at his long sleeves, staring up at him imploringly.

“Oh god! Andakar! Where is she? Veela?!” She turned, looking at all the chaos swirling around them.

“Veela!?” She screamed.

***

It was that dead simple.

Bryant simply trailed along behind them, staying just far enough back that only the Ishvallan's farce of a governor could be seen. Not a hard thing as he stood head and shoulders above most of the crowd. 

And he waited.

He had two possible choices. The Colonel's precious wife was hand in hand with the Corporal's offspring. Either one offered him a great amount of insurance and leverage. There was no way in hell he was going to let these half civilised Ishvallan scum get the better of him.

As he trailed he plotted. He decided he could easily send the Colonel a message, and finally get that bastard of a Corporal under his thumb at last. He had to make the timing just right. Trying to take a woman in broad daylight in a large crowd would be tricky. Trying to take a child... 

Bryant smiled.

Piece of cake.

He just had to create a diversion and get that joke of a governor out of his way. Oh, he knew about him all right, he knew what he had done through out Amestris. He knew that the current administrations in Central had bent over backwards to exonerate him, an Ishvallan serial killer, for crying out loud, and elevate him to the status of a hero! It felt like salt in a wound. 

Bryant had been in Ishval as a private, before the war of extermination. Ishval had descended into civil war. He'd been sent up against those mad hypocrites, claiming to be servants of God, yet decimating hundreds, if not thousands of Amestrians. He'd only survived by sheer wits and his innate sense of preserving his own skin. Then he got transferred west.

He'd been there since. A much better environment. One where he didn't have to put up with these freakish, white haired, red eyed, devils. A place where anyone with even a hint of Ishvallan blood in them was sent to their proper places. He'd only come back because he learned there was something he could do to slow any kind of efforts for this rebuilding scheme, in the hopes of ending it all together. 

Try to establish a fort in this cursed place? With an Ishvallan commander? Who did Central think they were kidding?

He scanned the surroundings, pausing as the killer called out to a man in the crowd, who turned an joined him. Bryant recognized him as one of the hypocrites, their so called spiritual leader. That one then picked up the Corporal's sproggie. 

Bryant scowled, he had to wait a bit longer. So he silently trailed through the crowd. He couldn't understand why so many Amestrian soldiers, and Amestrian citizens had come to this god forsaken place. It could only be their youth and sheer ignorance. 

Bryant watched as the killer and his group stopped at an intersection in the market and he spotted his opportunity. One of the corner vendors had several large tables of fruit on display. Stacks of oranges, grapefruit, lemons, prickly pear pads... Bryant scowled, who the hell would eat a cactus?! Anything that could smash, and more importantly, roll, would create the greatest amount of turmoil.

He smiled to himself, watching as the spiritual hypocrite set the sproglet down and turned to go. Now was the time to make his move. For the umpteeth time his height came to his advantage. He was of a small enough stature that when he 'stumbled' into a large Ishvallan women, sending her hard up against the table of fruit, he was able to swipe his foot out and knock the leg out from under the next table. The results of which produced the chaos he was needing. 

As expected, the huge killer turned, barked out something, then waded into the crowd as he dove to the right, slipping easily between people who where scrambling every which direction and he set his sights on the Colonel's wife. He began picking up momentum and as he gained enough speed, he tucked his shoulder in and rammed for all it was worth.

He literally knocked her off her feet and she went down like a sack of potatoes. As she did, her grip on the sproglet's hand was torn away, giving him enough time to scoop the girl with one arm and clamp a hand over her mouth with the other. Then he instantly dove down an intersection.

It was that dead simple.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: You're getting a threefer this week. With how the last few chapters that are left for posting are playing out, it makes sense to add a third chapter now so that the rest of the story finishes properly... I hope you enjoy it!

****

## 17.

He changed his mind about that shortly thereafter.

Bryant expected the little brat to scream but he quickly discovered that she went nearly rigid in terror. He could feel her struggling to breathe. His hand was clamped hard over her mouth, his other arm around her middle. He held her against him as he dodged through the maze of streets. He was putting as much distance between himself and the Kanda market as he could. 

Her rigidity created problems. Despite her tiny size and weight, she was trying to twist her way out of his grip, snorting hard through her nose for breath. As she tried to kick him, one of her sandals came off.

“Hold still you little brat!” He growled at her, struggling to keep his grip on her and move quickly through the streets. He spotted one or two civilians appearing at the end of a street, stopping to watch him as he strode rapidly past. Glancing down an intersection he spotted a few more people gathering.

When his capture suddenly began clawing at his hand he gripped her tighter, “I said hold still!” 

He dodged down a narrow alley, hearing the sounds of people running. He ducked onto a nearly deserted street, feeling the girl jerking in his arm, desperately trying to pry his fingers from her mouth. At the end of the road, several Ishvallan's appeared, looking his way and causing him to veer off down another street. Looking back he saw a few more people filling the road he had just exited.

As he walked rapidly, the girl in his grasp suddenly shuddered before going abruptly limp. He dropped her in surprise. Staring at her, he could just see that her eyes had rolled into the back of her head. With a scowl, Bryant grabbed her arm, twisting hard. He heard something snap.

“Get up!” He seethed, thinking she might be faking it, but he soon realized she was out cold. 

Muttering under his breath, he slung her over his shoulder, holding her in place with one hand. When he rose, he spotted a few more Ishvallan's at the end of the street he was on. He scowled and made his way through another alley. Glancing over his shoulder he saw the way behind him fill with a few more people.

When another group of Ishvallan men appeared, he saw the looks on their faces. They were absolute masks. No expression whatsoever, but there was a fire in those red eyes and Bryant realized he was being herded.

“All right!” He barked out, a sour smile on his face. He grabbed the back of Veela's tunic and slung her around to his front. He draped her over his arm, his hand grasping her chin and the other he grabbed the top of her head. She was limp as a rag doll.

“Either you get the hell out of my way, or I snap this little vermin's neck!”

He gave a triumphant snort as the small crowd of Ishvallan's parted, and he turned, walking backwards a moment as they moved away from him. Orienting himself, he saw he had reached the edges of Kanda and Daliha before they gave way to ruins. He turned, seeing the Ishvallans gathering together, maintaining a careful distance, behind him. He could hear people running.

“Don't anyone dare to follow me in there!” He shouted. “I'll snap her neck like a toothpick if I see a single person following me!” He continued backing up, smiling in grim satisfaction when no one moved.

Bryant released his grip on the child's head and re-slung her back over his shoulder. With a huff of satisfaction he turned and hurried his way into the ruins. 

They were so easy to manipulate...

***

Bozidar had waded into the chaos that was swirling in the market intersection and began issuing curt, fast orders, making his way to where Vesya was screaming. She was looking frantically about. Scar was lifting her to her feet. All through out the crowd they could just hear the voices.

“It was the Amestrian soldier!”

“What's happening?”

“An Amestrian took her!”

“Khorovar! This way!”

“It was that red haired sergeant!”

“Is it happening again?”

“He's gone down this street!”

“Somebody stop him!”

“Sweet Ishvala, not again!”

Scar got the distinct impression they were all looking at him. He also realized he needed to do some sort of delegation. He had no choice...

Bozidar stepped up, wrapping an arm around Vesya's shoulder as she began weeping tears of horror and frustration. Danika, also crying, threw her arms around Scar's leg. Bozidar said something to him and Scar, struggling to keep the rage that was building up in check, barked out.

“Follow them. Don't approach him. Think of the child. She's one of us!”

That set off a reaction. Almost instantly groups of people began slipping off down the streets, side streets, and alleys. The younger boys and girls outrunning all others. 

“Saahad?” He asked looking at his former Master. “Will you take Vesya to see Doctor Marcoh?”

“Of course.”

“No...” Vesya started. 

“Yes!” Scar said sternly, “He tackled you, Vesya, You blacked out a moment when you hit the ground. At least let Doctor Marcoh check you over. Miles would never forgive me otherwise.” He cut off her protest by reaching down and cupping Danika's face in his hands. He was ready for the reaction this time and he wiped the tears off her chin with his thumbs.

“I need you to do something very important for me, little blackbird.” Thinking he would happily tear Bryant limb for limb for the horror and tears that shrouded Danika's face. “I want you to go with Auntie Vesya. I need you to keep an eye on her for me. Can you do that?”

She nodded her head. “What about Veela?” she hiccuped.

“I'm going to get her. I'll bring her back safely. You go with Auntie Vesya.”

“Come with us...” Bozidar said, taking her hand in his.

“Papa?” Danika asked, suddenly uncertain. Bozidar gently tugged her away.

“Don't worry about me.” Scar said straightening up and looking around the crowd. “I need someone to run up to the Fort and tell Colonel Miles what has happened. And I need someone else to go and tell my wife.” 

He was gratified to get two instant volunteers, who immediately took off running. As Bozidar began leading Vesya and Danika away, Scar dropped a hand on his shoulder and whispered quickly in his ear. 

Bozidar looked at him, raising an eyebrow. “Are you sure?” He asked.

“Yes,” Scar growled, his features growing grim and hard. He turned, the crowd parting before him as he approached the street Bryant had run down.

“I'll join you as soon as I can,” Bozidar called back.

Scar didn't reply, but Bozidar had seen the look on his face and he silently began praying to Ishvala.

It was like an electric spark had jolted throughout the entire community and it all began to pull together in one accord. Word had quickly gotten to Rada and Naisha. Naisha immediately dropped everything to go to her sister, freeing Bozidar to head back into the crowds of people who began showing him where Bryant had gone. He began speaking to various groups as he went and what he said rippled out ahead of him. People began dashing off into the ruins.

At the furthest south western tip to Kanda's rebuilding, a group of men had gathered and Bozidar threaded his way to them, spotting his former pupil. He fell in and followed quickly in Scar's wake.

The large crowd of Ishvallan's stopped where Bryant had entered the ruins. They began to split apart when Scar appeared. His face was set and cold, and behind him was Bozidar. They stopped at the crowd's edge, looking at the vast ruins spreading out and away before them. 

It was a labyrinth, a rabbits warren of old streets and alleys strewn with rubble, debris and plant growth gone wild. Ishvala only knew what kind of venomous and dangerous creatures lived in there.

The area was wholly, as yet, uncleared by military personnel as well.

Bozidar laid a hand on Scar's arm, a cautious unspoken warning passing between them. “Ishvala be with you, my son,” he murmured, “Bring her back safe. Bring him back alive.” Bozidar could almost feel the wave of disgust that came from Scar. “Her safety is far more important than anything else. I'll be at the hospital with Vesya. Find me there.”

“If he hurts a hair on her head...” Scar growled.

“You will bring him back alive,” Bozidar said firmly, then his voice softened “The right of revenge belongs only to Ishvala....”

Scar glanced down at him and though his features were hard, his eyes were lit with a fire that nothing could put out.

“It won't be easy to search, my son. Trying to track them in there. However,” Bozidar gave a nod towards the ruins. “They'll be your guides.” He smiled slyly.

Scar looked up. 

At the beginning edges of the ruins, he spotted a young Ishvallan, one of his students. He had climbed up to the roof of a crumbling two story structure. He met Scar's eyes, smiled, and raised an arm pointing to the west. Further in to the left he spotted another person, who had climbed up onto a large crumbing rubbish pile. He silently raised an arm and pointed. Even further in he spotted a third person, a girl, doing the same.

Though his face was grim, Scar couldn't hide the gleam of approval that further lit his eyes. He reached up and gripped Bozidar's shoulder then plunged his way into the ruins.

***

The Colonel had been bracing himself for a ride that would take hours, knowing Taige was at least a day's ride ahead of him.

It therefore came as a bit of a surprise when Miles spotted his Corporal, barely two hours after he had left the Fort. Taige was slowly walking back. 

Miles reined in and frowned. Taige was leading the bay gelding he favoured and was riding the one he normally used as a pack horse. As he studied the situation he saw a slight hitch in the bay's stride and he realized that the horse was somehow impaired.

Laying the reins of his horse against her neck he turned her to the right and walked ahead to a stand of cottonwoods and willows, where he dismounted. By that time Taige had spotted them. Miles fetched his canteen, a part of him relieved that he wasn't going to have to ride out so far. Riding was just not natural for him. Standing at the forefront of a fleet of tanks, under fire, that was more his style. He slugged some of the water back, waiting as Taige slowly approached them. 

There was a look of curiosity on his face as he rode up.

Miles, recapping the canteen, almost envied the ease with which his Corporal rode a horse. Some people were obviously just born to ride. Taige came to a stop, transferring the lead rope to his left and saluted Miles.

“Colonel?” He asked

Miles returned the salute. “Corporal.”

Taige relaxed and leaned forward a little, crossing his arms across the pommel of the saddle, loosely holding the reins and lead in one hand.

Miles nodded at the bay. “He go lame?”

Taige nodded. “Threw a shoe. Couldn't keep going. Had to turn back.” 

Miles watched Taige study him carefully. It irritated him.

“We need to have a discussion, Corporal,” Miles said, watching the reaction. Taige was looking thoughtfully at him and nodded.

“Sir.” He replied kicking his right foot loose from the iron of his stirrup. He dropped easily off the horse and let the reins fall to the ground. Both horses, instantly shook their heads and neck, snuffing at the ground and relaxing. Taige turned to the saddle and pulled his own canteen off.

Miles knew during Taige's restricted activities in the fort that he had trained the horses to be ground tied. They wouldn't wander off.

Miles folded his arms, waiting as Taige quenched his thirst and put the canteen away. He was still wearing his glasses, but he got the distinct feeling that his Corporal could read him well enough without them on. Might as well get to it.

“I'm starting to notice a rather disturbing trend with you, Taige.” Miles said. “One that I'm not liking in the slightest.”

Taige raised an eyebrow at him, perplexed. “Sir?” He asked, he still held the lead rope of the bay, his one hand rubbing the end of the rope.

“I am trying...” Miles said tersely, “Trying to figure out whether or not you can be trusted and, by Ishvala, Corporal, what I am learning is making me lean very far away from that notion.” 

The look of perplexity was still on Taige's face and Miles continued.

“My Fort must, _it must_ , run to my liking and my direction. I have an enormous responsibility not only to the government of Amestris but also to the people of Ishval and Ishvala! I have to have soldiers under me whom I can trust. The safety and unity of my soldiers is absolutely paramount. I cannot, _cannot_ , have a soldier doing whatever it is he pleases.” 

His ire began seeping into his voice. “I can't have soldiers under me who pick and choose what information they decide to give to me. It borders on insubordination and that is something I will not tolerate!”

“Have you found any cause to think I'm lying to you, Colonel?”

“You may not be lying to me Taige, but by God, you sure as hell haven't been forthcoming to me either. I can't decide which is worse? At least if you had been lying to me, I'd know it!” Miles barked back, silencing the Corporal. 

Taige sighed, dropping the lead rope to the ground. He clasped his arms behind his back and rooted himself into a semi-formal stand of attention.

“You wouldn't have rode out this far to meet unless you had learned something,” Taige said, his frank gaze fixed on the Colonel.

Miles face hardened and he glared angrily at the Corporal.

“Oh, I learned something all right,” Miles hissed. “You weren't just in the Mounted Patrol at Central. You were neck deep in Military Intelligence and that joke of a file you gave me didn't even give a tenth of what it is you were involved in!”

Taige drew in a deep breath and very slowly released it before replying. “How the hell did you get my records out of the hands of Western Command?” He asked softly, a very faint smile appeared on his lips.

Miles instantly noted that there was a sense of wonder in Taige's voice rather than accusation. It made him a little madder.

“I didn't get to be second in command of Briggs by accident!” He growled. “I've created my own damned network of intelligence, thank you very much!”

“All the same, Colonel, Western Command isn't easy to get information from. Especially in regards to Ishvallan soldiers. I'm impressed.”

“I don't give a shit's worth of damn if you're impressed or not!” Miles snapped. “I found out it was Captain Hughes, at that time, who managed to get Central to ship me to Briggs. It was Hughes who got my files diverted North instead of West. However, it was you who got my arrest warrants destroyed before they could be implemented...” 

“Sir,” Taige said cutting off the rising ire of his commander. “May I say something?”

Miles stopped, glaring hard at Taige. 

“Western was actually getting their hands dirty, but Central Command was suggesting the orders. Captain Hughes realized this. He realized that Central, via Western, was pre-emptively exterminating Ishvallan officers before the war of extermination.”

Taige paused a moment. “By 1908, you were the highest ranking Ishvallan soldier left in Amestris. You had just been promoted to Major and Central had their sights set on you. Western cut the orders for your arrest. Hughes saw the handwriting on the wall and sent three of us in to intercept those orders. He stopped your dossier from being sent West. He succeeded. We, however, did not.”

He paused, watching the Colonel's reaction. “Our mission was compromised, my peers were killed. I got one last communication to Hughes before I was arrested and shipped to Mawestown. The results of that message, got you transferred North.” He heaved a sigh. “We knew that Briggs was unlike any of the other command posts in Amestris and Hughes gambled big time that you would not get sent West from Briggs. He was right.”

By now Miles' jaw was tight as he clenched his teeth. Taige could see the anger in his eyes, despite Miles' glasses. 

“Captain Hughes could be an incredibly irritating ass, but the man was brilliant at running counter-intelligence circles around the anti-Ishvallan policies that were being crafted. He had an ability to foresee what was coming and he was trying to prevent it in the only way he knew how. One of the last thing I heard was that after you were sent North, someone got suspicious and Hughes was shipped to the front lines in Ishval. His plans for you? They worked. For the rest of us...” Taige sighed. “Bradley issued 3066 and we were done.”

He shrugged.

“And now what?” Miles clipped out. “Do you expect me to owe you a debt of gratitude for this? According to your account, people died trying to get me out of the way! How do I know you won't hold that against me?”

Taige frowned. “Why would I do that? I was doing what Hughes ordered me to do. If you owe a debt to anyone? It's Hughes.”

“Who's conveniently dead!” Miles snapped.

“I'd heard that,” Taige replied. 

“If you think for one second, Taige, that you can use this information to somehow undermine my command? You had better guess again...”

“Just what do you think I am?” Taige asked.

“That's what I'd like to know!” Miles snapped at him. “How the hell do I know you aren't some sort of plant from Military Intelligence running some sort of counter-intelligence ring around me?”

Miles saw the look of incredulity pass across Taige's eyes and the man's lip actually twitched into a sneer as he drew himself up to full attention. Miles' remark had hit hard.

Taige's gaze shifted, looking past Miles left shoulder.

“With all due respect, Colonel,” Taige said in a low quiet voice. “If that is what you really believe? I'll resign my commission right now.”


	19. Chapter 19

****

## 18.

“See that's just it, Taige...” Miles carried on. “I don't know what to believe. You show up out of the blue and ask to re-enlist in an organization that still wants you arrested for absconding and treason. I have your arrest warrants in my office. I've seen what they did to you at Mawestown. Why the hell would you even want to re-enlist?”

“My circumstances changed,” Taige said slowly. “What I want had to change. You're right. I didn't want to re enlist in the Amestrian army.” Taige could barely contain the anger seeping into his words. “But it's no longer about me any more.”

“So enlighten me,” Miles said flatly, folding his arms.

“Since I have been under your command, Colonel, have I not carried out the duties you asked?” Taige avoided answering the question.

“This isn't a question about performing your duties. It's a matter of trust and integrity! You've already tricked me once into doing something you wanted!” Miles snapped. “I asked you why you re-enlisted. You evaded the question, again.”

Taige paused, appearing to struggle with an inner turmoil. Finally he answered. “I used you to protect my child,” he said carefully. “I re-enlisted under you because of my child.”

His gaze flicked to Miles. 

“She's everything to me. I want her to grow up in Ishval. I want her to learn about her culture, her heritage, her people. I didn't just re-enlist in the Amestrian Army, I re-enlisted under _your_ command. Because of what you are trying to do for our people. If I was going to put my neck back under the yoke of the people that tried to kill me, at least I'd do it under an honest to God, Ishvallan commander! I'll do whatever it takes to see Ishval reborn in the only way I know how. Because I want Veela to grow up in this country. It was a vow I made not only to myself, but to her mother as well. And that vow was consecrated before Ishvala by Saahad Tosca.” 

Taige took a steadying breath. “I don't take that lightly.”

He continued on, “I knew, sir, what I was facing, including demotion. Circumstances have put me in this position. There is no way in hell I would give my service back to Amestris, unless it was for the betterment of Ishval.”

Taige lifted a shoulder, still keeping his gaze fixed on Miles. “Yes, I was in MI. Me and seventeen others formed a unique unit headed by Captain Hughes. We gathered intelligence. Every one of us operated independently. All of us were horsemen. So far as I know, I'm the only survivor.” 

He sighed, “What I know, and what I can do are yours to do with as you see fit, Colonel. Including if you decided you want nothing more to do with me. If you decide to keep me? I'll do whatever you ask.”

“Because of Veela?” Miles clipped, not convinced.

“Especially because of Veela. If what I can gather in the realm of intelligence and security can keep her and this country of ours safe? I will do it. But I will only do it under your command.”

Miles glare remained fixed on Taige. “There's still the issue of just what it is you want to see happening with Ishval. You were accused of treason. Of running arms between Aurego and Ishval. You're fluent in Auregan. And you just happened to work for MI. Then I find out you ordered parts for a sniper rifle, and want to get things transferred from North Amestris to Ishval. Mill parts from what I understand? What am I to think there? You obviously have the ability to create networks for running things. How am I supposed to know that it isn't some sort of effort to create a free and independent Ishval?”

Taige had the temerity to begin chuckling.

“Ishval's people already made known their will when they decided to become a provincial entity. Hell, Central sweetened that pot so much it would have been down right stupid for Ishval to go independent. You voted on the issue. Who am I to go against what the people of this country want? It would be a fool's errand. Like fighting against Ishvala himself. What you heard regarding mill parts, was a somewhat recklessly planted seed that produced quite a batch of fruit. And it may still...”

“You are getting too fucking vague again, Taige!” Miles growled. 

Taige sighed. “Permission to get something out of my saddle pack, sir.”

Miles heaved a sigh of disgust and then nodded.

Taige dropped out of his stance and turned, where he untied the strings of the flap on his saddlebag. He extracted the composition book.

“You might find this interesting.” Taige handed it to the Colonel. “You all ready know that Sergeant Bryant is shaking down the junior officers.” 

Miles shot him an exasperated look as he flipped the book open. 

“I knew if he was trying to sell it locally, he'd have to have some help. I began inquiring about town. Turns out, our not so sterling Kanda chieftain, had a couple of acquaintances who seem to be able to get remarkably drunk at fairly regular intervals. I tested a theory. Told Dreva I wanted work in exchanged for tools and lumber, which is the truth. Then I let slip I was looking to run parts into Ishval. He was either going to be all over something like that for his own gain, or warn others to get out of it, again for his own gain. He ended up doing both,” Taige smirked. “All for his own gain...”

“Achran and Deuel,” Miles muttered, reading. 

“I followed the money, and them. There is a fairly intact structure in the middle of the Daliha ruins that hasn't been cleared. Those two and Bryant have got themselves a little black market store. It's filled with the things I am sure you've noticed that have disappeared from the fort. Plus some stuff from Havoc's place and things vanishing from the various markets. When either three needs any money, they bring along someone who 'wants' something and offers them a deal. I mapped its location.”

“And it's that fucking simple...” Miles muttered. He paused and looked at Taige. “Bryant had a juvenile record hidden from Central courtesy of Western Command, where he's from. He was conscripted into service to avoid jail.”

“Ah...” Taige murmured. 

Miles shot a glare at him. “And?” He demanded.

“He's got a racial streak against Ishvallan's that I am sure has been nurtured and coddled by Western Command. I wouldn't put it past them to plant someone in your garrison to try and slow things down a bit, so to speak. Put a hitch in the efforts of a new commander.” Taige gave him a slight smile. “He doesn't care for you much either, that's for sure.”

“Shehai li Ishvala!” Miles muttered. His gaze shifted, his mind racing. He focused on Taige's rifle still securely tied to the horse. “Why the hell did you order a Unertyl scope?”

Taige sighed, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “It's not for what you're thinking. Simply put, it's the best on the market. I can take out a long range target if I have to. Rather not though.”

Taige smirked. “It's slim and portable.” He reached down into his left boot and pulled the scope out. “Easier to carry than binoculars.”

Miles stared at him. He reached up and ran his hand down his mouth, then he suddenly smiled, beginning to chuckle. He shook his head. Taige was simply not one to back down from anything.

“You've got an answer for everything. You are beyond a shadow of a doubt the damnedest soldier I have ever run into.”

“You aren't exactly a run of the mill commander either.”

“I still don't trust you.”

“Understood,” Taige replied, toying with the scope in his fingers. 

“There's a hell of a lot still not answered. I want full disclosure from you. Everything.”

“Fair enough.”

“See, this gets to me as well...” Miles waved a hand between them, “You're too damned laid back!”

Taige smirked, “Doesn't make sense to piss in the wind...”

Miles stared at him a moment then he began laughing again. “I won't lie Taige, I have serious reservations about you still. You have however, provided me with some incredible information I just happen to need to get this garrison on its feet. I'm going to reserve my judgement on what it is I plan on doing about you for now.”

Taige nodded, his lips lifting in a smirk as his only reply. 

“Well, I suppose we better get that horse back to the Fort.” Miles said and turned towards his mare. 

“Sir,” Taige rumbled and slid the telescope back into his boot.

He would end up using it within a matter of an hour.

***

Miles didn't start asking him anything about his past straight away and Taige figured that the Colonel wanted to mull things over. He did however, begin mentioning what he was intending for the Fort, like creating a proper Military Police, regular patrols with manned outposts here and there, especially along the southern and eastern borders. 

As they rode, accommodating the pace of the bay, Taige was scanning the horizon, when he abruptly reined to a stop. 

Miles halted, looking back at him with a frown as Taige reached into his boot and extracted the scope.

“Corporal?”

“Someone's coming,” Taige murmured, adjusting the scope. “There's a dust cloud on the horizon.”

Miles quickly looked in the direction Taige was focusing on and he reached a hand back to grab his own set of binoculars. “Sure it's not a dust devil?”

“Bit too breezy today. Dust devils don't trail. That's a vehicle, probably one of our trucks...”

“Out here?!” Miles asked, he nudged his goggles up and lifted the binoculars, focusing. 

“Seems a bit urgent don't you think?” Taige asked. 

Miles scowled and continued staring through the binoculars. He drew in a breath. “I'll ride on ahead,” he said, turning to put the binoculars away. “Find out what's going on.”

Taige nodded, slipping the telescope away and Miles tapped the sides of his mare with his heels, urging her into a canter.

Taige continued on his way, watching as the truck came to stop and Miles eventually reaching it. Within minutes one of the privates he worked with was riding back on the Colonel's mare to meet up with him.

“Sir!” he saluted, “They asked me to bring the bay back in, they want you to ride ahead.” 

“They say what's going on?” Taige asked, leaning over to hand the lead rope off. 

“No sir,” the private replied. 

Taige studied him a moment. Something urgent was happening, the soldier was on high alert. Taige gathered the reins together and nodded before urging his mount into a gallop. By the time he reached the truck, he saw Miles, the other private he worked with, and Jean Havoc standing around waiting for him. Taige raised an eyebrow at Havoc who was absolutely blank faced. He knew enough about the man by now that that was not normal.

Taige glanced at Miles, as he kicked free of the stirrups and dropped to the ground.

The Colonel was like a block of ice, but there was an anger in his eyes that had nothing to do with what they had been discussing. The private saluted Taige and took the reins of his mount.

“We have a situation,” Miles said without preamble. “Havoc came to get us.”

“Benji?”

“Manning the fort. Bryant's gone AWOL.”

Taige looked at Miles sharply. Miles turned to the private, “Soldier head on out and meet your buddy, get these horses back to the Fort in good shape. We'll head on in before you.”

“Sir,” the soldier replied, easily launching himself up into the saddle. He turned the horse, but not before Taige reached over to grab the thirty ought six.

Miles hand instantly slapped onto the stock of the rifle, stopping Taige from pulling it from the scabbard.

Taige looked back at Miles, perplexed. “Sir?”

“Leave it, we don't have time,” Miles ordered, but then he reached over and dragged the saddle pack of the horse. “Get going soldier!” He ordered, shouldering the saddlepacks. The private said nothing more, just turning the horse and galloping off.

Taige still face Miles.

“Bryant attacked my wife in the Kanda market, Veela was with her.” Miles clipped out. 

“Was?” Taige said looking sharply at Miles.

As his words registered in the eyes of his Corporal Miles added. “He's taken Veela.”

Miles saw the realization hit and the colour drain out of Taige's face at the same time. His hand shot out, slapping Taige's chest, grabbing the front of his uniform as the Corporal began to move. 

“You will _not_ ,” Miles hissed in his face, “go after him alone! Bryant is to be captured alive.”

An ugly scowl threatened Taige's features, “I'll kill that son of a bitch!” Taige's voice was strained. 

Thinking he'd rather kill the Sergeant himself for attacking his wife, Miles had to set that aside and fast. “Don't make me arrest you again, soldier!” Miles growled, “You can lead us to where he's taken her.” 

“Andakar's already on their trail...” Havoc said grimly. “God help Bryant if he catches up to him.”

“Andakar's got enough sense not to let Veela get harmed,” Miles said, still eyeing Taige. “Veela's safety is paramount! You can lead us in another way according to that map you've got. We can box Bryant in. Once we got him pinpointed we can cordon him off. He's got nowhere to go!” 

“All the same I'd pay money to see Andakar's right hand of doom get a hold of him,” Havoc growled sadistically. “Attacking a woman is bad enough, kidnapping a child...” He shook his head, letting his words hang at the look of rage that came from Taige's face. “Andakar ain't having none of that!”

“Right hand of doom?” Taige snapped, his eyes fixed on Havoc.

“You've been stayin' in the big guy's home. You don't know the story behind those tat's?” Havoc started.

“Not now, Havoc!” Miles growled as he kept a firm grip on Taige. He locked glares with the Corporal.

“Get a hold of yourself!” Miles hissed at him. “If what you told me earlier is true, then you need to focus on your child! If you meant what you told me earlier, I need you here and now!” Even through the hand still clenching a fistful of Taige's uniform he could feel the anger coming off the man.

“Get in the truck,” Miles ordered. “We've got a mission to accomplish!”


	20. Chapter 20

****

## 19.

It bothered Scar how quickly he fell back into the old habits.

He'd really only been free to live his life as a 'normal' man for just about two years now. However, current circumstances had forced him back into a way of life he wanted nothing more to be involved with. Bryant's attack on his cousin and the kidnapping of an already damaged child was bad enough. Forcing him back into this former way of life just added fuel to his fire.

He scowled to himself. He'd honed these particular skills for nearly six years. He could evade capture from the authorities all the live long day. (He'd even sent Kimblee on a wild goose chase for quite some time because of that skill.) His ability to stay focused on lethal self deceptions was mind boggling. His skill as a hunter for his next prey was what had earned him the label of 'serial killer'. 

Now he was using it all over again. 

He paused at another rubble strewn intersection. Half destroyed buildings surrounded him, along with meskaa and citrus trees in old gardens that had taken over what was once a former cul-de-sac. Years old vines scaled the crumbling walls, bright with new Spring growth. Somewhere nearby he could hear water trickling. Probably from an abandoned well. In the distances he could hear a quail chuckling, almost mocking him for what he was trying to do. What was missing was the cactus wrens... he knew he had to be heading in the right direction.

He was somewhere deep in the ruins of Daliha. 

Bozidar's sentinel's had gone into the ruins as far as they could, pointing him silently after the fleeing Sergeant. Eventually they'd been unable to continue their job and he was forced back into these habits of old. He studied the ground in front him, noting the broken twigs and disturbances in the rubble and sand. Bryant wasn't trying to hide his tracks. 

With care he continued on, a part of him noting that the old city of Ishval had been built in quite a careless way. Though still circular, the former city had a much more patchwork like quality to it. Not like what the current rebuilding was achieving. The former layout made things much more challenging to search and clear, made worse by the mayhem and destruction that had been inflicted upon it.

A minute change occurred to Scar as he silently kept moving. He began noticing that the myriad lizards and grasshoppers were no longer scattering at his approach from the ground level. Now they were scrambling away from where they crept back down from along the walls and tops of ruins. 

They'd been disturbed earlier. 

Presently he heard sounds, voices actually, and they were arguing.

With grim determination, Scar slowed, checking his surroundings. He was approaching a haphazard junction consisting of four roads and two alleys. Crumbling walls and ruins were thrown about like a giant hand had strewn out a fistful of debris. He slipped along side a partially intact two story building, hearing the water again. The well was nearby. If some of the meskaa's he spotted were any indication by their size, the well was overflowing and the water was soaking into the ground. 

He glanced cautiously out into the intersection, strewn with blocks and chunks of rubble. Ahead was what appeared to be a fairly intact structure. The doorway was covered with a sheet of burlap.

Two of the roads leading in shot off from the square at an angle. He slipped into the alley, carefully keeping one of two crumbling walls and the meskaa's before him for cover. As expected he found the old well, nearly covered over by a profusely blooming honeysuckle, and surrounded by several meskaa saplings. To his left were the crumbling remains of former homes. 

From behind the burlap covering he could make out three voices, intensely arguing. Scar wanted nothing more than to just walk his way in there and make short work of things, but he had no idea where Veela was at. Worse, the three arguing were arguing about her. Most notably, two men were arguing against being involved in the kidnapping of a child and the third, obviously Bryant, crowing about how her being there was their insurance to getting out of the mess.

Scar glared around the rest of the surroundings. He noted the roads, the alleys, and the state each damaged building was in. Familiarizing himself. Once ascertaining what was happening with Veela, he would have to move and fast. He circled his way to the left, keeping an eye on the doorway and manoeuvred around the ruined buildings and debris. He paused momentarily at one of the roads leading west. He slipped behind a wall of a former house but kept the intact building in sight.

The absolute last thing Scar expected to see was Veela herself.

She came slipping out from the building, barely causing the burlap to ruffle and Scar started in alarm. 

Veela backed away from the entry with a look of apprehension and fear. Teetering uncertainly on her feet, her white curls in disarray, she glanced around her in utter confusion. Scar saw a smudge on her face and quickly realized it was a bruise. Blinking hard in the harsh sunlight, Veela carried her left arm awkwardly tucked in tight to her. He could see she was missing a sandal and she looked around in total incomprehension. He could also see a track of tears on her dusty face and pain flashed in her eyes. 

Something was wrong. 

He started to move, silently, heading back around to where he could get to her when he saw her turn around. Her gaze fell on the well. Stumbling, she kicked off her sandal, and made a beeline for the water. Scar remembered. Her father had taught her to search for water. He had also taught her how to hide. Scar watched Veela slip in behind the vast honeysuckle that was literally supporting the crumbling stone wall behind it.

There came, not minutes later, an uproar from inside the building. The argument had escalated and he realized that the men inside were about to come out. Bryant was most vocal, realizing his prey was now missing.

Scar's sight fell on the sandal lying in the square, and the barefoot marks left in the sand and debris leading off into the tangle of growth.

There was nothing for it now, he had to move. Veela's safety was critical. That suited him just fine, because now he honestly didn't care how the three inside the building felt about it. 

***

Miles stopped Havoc from going into the Daliha ruins as soon as he pulled the truck up to where Taige had instructed them to go.

“You're not a part of this any more, Havoc.” Miles said, as Taige dropped out of the back of the truck. Havoc was about to protest when Miles just shot a stern glare his way. “Inside one of those saddlebags is his composition book. It's got a detailed map in it of where we'll be. Get it into Benji's hands. Tell him we need this area cordoned off, and tell him to be discreet!” Not waiting for whatever outburst Havoc would present, Miles clambered his way out of the truck.

Reluctantly Havoc agreed, grumbling something about how being an errand boy wasn't supposed to be a part of being a 'merchant adventurer'. Miles ignored him and slapped the fender of the truck, causing Havoc to jump.

“Get a move on Havoc, I haven't got time for this!” He said, following after Taige who was already beginning to head off down the road before them. “Corporal!” He snapped, jogging to catch up.

Taige halted in his tracks. His face was set like granite, his teeth clenched. He looked at Miles.

“Put your money where your mouth is, Taige!” Miles ordered, “You will follow my directions in there. To the letter.” He would brook no argument.

“Sir,” Taige growled.

“The last thing this country needs is another military incident! With Bryant AWOL, he's sealed his fate. We can separate him from the over all entity. It's critical.”

“Veela is critical!” Taige snarled.

“So is my wife!” Miles snapped back. “The overall perceptions of the Amestrian military in Ishval is vital. I've got one soldier going rogue in there. I will not allow two!”

For a moment they faced off with one another, Miles watching the struggle in Taige's eyes, then the Corporal backed down and nodded at the roadway they were on. He set off at a good pace.

Trying to keep himself from focusing on his rage he asked. “What did Havoc mean about Andakar's tattoo's? What's this right hand of doom?”

“If there is one thing you need to know about it, it's that Andakar will keep Veela safe at any cost.” Miles replied.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Taige hissed as he set a fast paced walk through the hellacious maze of the ruins.

“You've seen the tattoos?” Miles asked.

“Of course.”

“Those markings are part of the reason why he's no longer a priest,” Miles said keeping easy pace.

“How's that?”

“They're not just tats, they're alchemical arrays.”

That almost brought Taige to a stand still. He looked at Miles in genuine surprise. “Alchemy!? On an Ishvallan priest?!”

“There's a hell of a lot more to it than that, which I will not go into. Suffice is to say, he's sporting a unique hybrid between alchemy and alchahestry, the Xingese form. His brother came up with it. It is uniquely Ishvallan. What do you know of Andakar's history? During the Exile?”

“You see the wanted posters, you get a pretty good idea,” Taige grumbled. 

Miles could see he hated not having full information. Served the Corporal right, Miles smiled grimly.

“How do you think he got that 'right hand of doom' tagline then?”

Taige shot a glance at Miles, speechless.

“He's a warrior priest. He never had to use a weapon. He'd only use the deconstruction aspect of the array, the right arm. The left is the reconstruction.”

Taige's eyes widened as he understood the implications of what Miles was saying. “He doesn't actually practise alchemy, does he?” Taige sounded horrified, and rightfully so, he understood the history of alchemy in Ishval...

“You've spent some time with him, how often does he talk about it?” Miles countered, “It's a particularly sore subject with him. All I can tell you is that if Andakar can get Veela to safety? Bryant and those other two idiots won't stand a chance against him. Take it from me, Andakar's got Veela first and foremost in his thoughts. That will leave it up to us to capture Bryant alive.”

Miles paused and added. “I, for one, would like to prevent Andakar from having to use his alchemy at all. It's a burden he dislikes having to carry. Trust me when I tell you he won't use it unless he absolutely has to. He's got all his other means to protect Veela.”

“I suppose the question now is, will he have found where they're at?” Taige growled. “We still got thirty minutes, more or less, to reach where they've hidden their stash.”

Miles was silent a moment, and when Taige glanced at him he saw a smirk of deep satisfaction on Miles' face. He glanced at the Corporal.

“Saahad Bozidar? He managed to get the more able bodied citizenry to act as lookouts in the ruins. They provided him with directions on how to follow Bryant. They provided us even more reasons why we need to capture Bryant alive. They all came together as one to help find your child.”

As they hurried deeper and deeper into the ruins Miles added, “It's more important than ever for you to set aside that anger and focus on keeping this from becoming a military incident. This is the last thing Ishval needs. You can help prevent that despite Veela being involved. I have to act the same for the better of this country. Even though that bastard attacked my wife!”

“What I'd like to know about all this is how deep is Western Command involved?” Taige growled. “Could this whole situation be something they'd want to bring the reconstruction efforts to a halt? I wouldn't put it past them.”

“Neither would I.” Miles agreed, “Speaking of that...” He paused a moment. “I need you to understand that we must keep what is occurring about Western Amestris strictly between us.”

“Militarily speaking?” Taige asked, leading them around a building that had been blown sideways into the road.

“Until I understand better what is happening and depending on what Central decides about it, don't let Andakar know. It's a military matter for now. Got that?”

“Yes sir.”


	21. Chapter 21

****

## 20.

The sounds of arguing drew them up short.

Or rather the sound of Bryant spouting off over the protestations of Achran and Deuel. 

Miles and Taige carefully approached the area where the illicit stash of goods had been hidden. Taige was ahead of Miles and slowed to a stop, leaning his back against a crumbling wall as they drew nearer down a side street.

Cautiously he peered around the edge and saw Bryant, in front of the two Ishvallans, confronting Scar. Scar stood with his arms folded and he was ignoring Bryant, his focus on the other two. He murmured back at Miles, “There's a large structure in back of these three. It's where they've been hiding their stuff. I don't see Veela, at all.”

Miles tapped him on the shoulder, and Taige backed away, allowing Miles to take his place and check the scene before him. Half a breath later he pulled back, turning to the Corporal.

“Can you get around to that alley on the other side of them? Behind Deuel?”

“I can, yes.”

“Between the three of us, we can at least prevent them from getting away anywhere. Since all three are out. My guess is Veela's inside the room.” As Taige prepared to move out Miles gave him a warning shot. “Just remember what we've discussed, Corporal.”

Taige nodded then he slipped away from Miles before disappearing right along the side of a disintegrating outbuilding.

Miles turned his focus back to the scene in front of him, waiting for Taige to make an appearance before he would make his move. He focused on Scar.

“I'd suggest you two move as far back from this yaakhtai as you can,” Scar was saying, specifically to Achran and Deuel.

“You two don't move!” Bryant growled, his eyes fixed on Scar. “You're just as much involved now as I am.” He spoke to Scar with a sneer. “You won't do a damned thing, not while I have that little runt! Besides, you might think you a big boy, but its three of us against you!”

Scar just looked at Bryant like he was an insect. 

His gaze flicked to the other two and he switched to Ishvallan. “If you two know what's good for you, you'll back down from this and cooperate. I happen to know the child isn't in that room.”

“Speak to me properly, you desert rat!” Bryant spat angrily, barely noticing the two behind him exchanging looks and trying to back up further. He shot a quick glare at them both. “Don't you listen to a damn thing he's saying. We've got the upper hand here.”

“Do you even realize who he is?” Ahcran snapped.

“Just another murderous Ishvallan sand flea! Calls himself d' Governor,” Bryant spat contemptuously into the dirt. “It's an insult to d' Amestrian way of life, electing a murderer. And for what? An over glorified wasteland? I ain't afraid to take him down a notch or two. Could probably earn myself a nice fat reward just for bringing him in.”

Miles almost groaned out load. As it was he reached up and ran a hand down his face. He slipped silently in behind Ahcran.

Scar promptly ignored Bryant, heaving a sigh at such colossal stupidity. From the corner of his eye he caught sight of Miles who was stealthily moving in to position to prevent Achran's flight. Where the hell was Taige? He had to have been with Miles. Scar focused back on the two Ishvallans, switching languages again..

“If you two choose to work with me on this. I will see what can be done to lessen the consequences. If you don't? Ishvala have mercy on your souls.” He growled.

“I said speak to me like a human being!” Bryant snapped loudly. “I won't stand for being addressed in that gibberish!”

Scar glared at him. “I wasn't addressing you, jhavahal.” He said flatly in Amestrian.

“Well you better start addressing me now!” Bryant sneered. “I won't hesitate to break d' neck of that little piece of vermin I've got in there. You will listen to me! I won't deal with a piece of desert scum like you. Get it? Get it?!” He demanded.

“Then why should I listen to you?” Scar asked.

With a look of disgust on his face, Scar shifted his weight onto his left leg, allowing him to sweep his right foot back. With his arms still folded, implacable as a statue, and with minimal effort, he lofted Veela's sandal with his foot. It dropped on the ground in front of Bryant. At the same time he caught sight of Taige making his way down the alley on Deuel's left. Within seconds he was mere feet from the man's back.

Bryant glared down at the sandal.

“You don't even have the child. Why should I listen to anything that is spewing out of your foul mouth?” He said it loudly enough that he knew both Miles and Taige would have heard him.

Achran and Deuel had the presence of mind to at least realize they were stuck between a rock and a hard place.

“We had nothing to do with the child,” Achran protested. “He just showed up here with her!”

“Yeah, this was all the Ammie's doing,” The other added in disgust. “And I mean everything!”

“I know who's responsible,” Scar said, not taking his eyes of Bryant. “The question is, what are you two going to do about it?”

“It ain't my deal, Zhaarad!” Deuel was saying, waving his hands. “Neither one of knew about this.”

“I see how it is!” Bryant snarled, “Try explaining to him about what's in that shack behind us. Who's responsible for all of that?” Bryant turned to glare at Ahcran and as he did he caught sight of Miles.

At the same time Deuel sensed something was wrong. Alarmed, he turned, clenching his fists. 

Taige, expressionless, save for the coldness in his eyes, slammed three fast blows into Deuel's back. His fist, knuckle protruding, hitting the nerve ending pressure points so hard that Deuel stiffened in agonized paralysis. His ability to move was instantly robbed from him. He sucked in a strangled breath of air in an attempt to scream, but Taige grabbed him by the shoulders and drove his thumbs into the nerve points at the base of his neck.

Deuel arced his back, his eyes opened wide with pain and horror, mouth gasping like a fish as Taige  
continued driving his thumbs in, shoving the man downward onto his knees. 

To his right, Miles scowled and muttered, “Son of a bitch!” 

Stepping forward Miles, in one fluid move, grabbed Achran's left wrist and used his right leg to kick the man's feet out from under him. He jerked his arm up behind his back as he fell forward. The Colonel planted his boot in the centre of Achran's back pinning him down, twisting his arm up, and immobilizing him. 

It took mere seconds.

“Stop struggling,” Miles barked. “I will break your arm. This thing is over.” He looked across to see Taige dropping Deuel like a sack of potatoes, shoving the man on to his side. Deuel collapsed in the dirt, not moving.

Bryant, distracted that few seconds upon spotting Miles, never saw Scar move two steps forward. The next thing he realized was a huge hand grabbing him by the throat and bodily jerking him off the ground. He looked back into a pair of red eyes blazing with fury. Scar's expression did little to dampen his considerable ferocity.

Bryant's own face turned red, flushing to the roots of his hair as he struggled for breath. His drew back his fist and slammed it as hard as he could into Scar's body. 

For his part, Scar sensed the movement and instinctively tensed for the blow. He let out a grunt of surprise, at the sheer force of it and he winced. He looked at Bryant, who was gagging and beginning to struggle. He now looked at Scar with something akin to fear. What would have been a knuck punch to drop anyone to their knees had barely registered on his opponent. Bryant pulled back his fist, about to try punching him again when another hand grabbed his arm.

Taige ripped the knuckledusters off his hand, leaving Bryant's knuckles bleeding. He slipped them onto his own hand, reaching up to grab a fistful of Bryant's hair and jerking his head back, causing him to gag even more. 

“Where the hell is my child?” He snarled in Bryant's ear as he held up his fist to show him the knuckledusters. 

“She did what you taught her,” Scar said quickly, distracting Taige, who was drawing his arm back. 

Taige looked at him, a momentary flash of puzzlement in his eyes. A blue uniformed arm suddenly snaked around his neck, jerking his own head back while a hand grabbed his wrist. Taige felt himself being hauled backwards.

“Drop the knucks,” Miles hissed in his ear. “Now!”

Taige let go of Bryant, and raised his hands up. He shook the brass instrument off his fist and into his fingers. Gripping Miles' arm with one hand he held the knuckledusters up for him. 

As he did, Scar flicked his arm and released the hold he had on Bryant's throat. He dumped him unceremoniously onto the ground before him. Bryant, gasping and coughing for breath, looked up at him in a mixture of fear and rage.

Scar glared down at him, lips twisted in disgust and he purposely wiped his hand off down the front of his tunic. He said nothing as he stepped over him, heading over to where Deuel was laying.

Miles meanwhile released his grip on Taige, taking the brassknuckles from his hand. Taige panted from his exertions and paused a moment for breath. He looked around, until he zeroed in on the sound of trickling water.

“Veela...” He whispered, hurrying over to the abandoned well.

Scar had crouched over Deuel, then he effortlessly flipped the unconscious man onto his side. “Ahcran,” he snapped, looking over at the other man, who was sitting in the dirt, rubbing his shoulder.

Achran scrambled to his feet, approaching Scar with trepidation. 

“Stay with your buddy,” Scar growled at him. “He's going to wake up screaming in agony, and he'll undoubtedly start vomiting. Make sure he doesn't choke to death.” He added in disgust before turning towards the others.

“Taige!” Miles snapped when his Corporal began jogging towards the tangle of vegetation. It had formed a huge mound in the square's corner before scrambling over a crumbing wall of blocks. Taige dodged to the right around the well and began trying to shoulder his way into the mass of trailing vines.

“Miles! She's in there...” Scar indicated with a nod as he rose from Deuel's prone body and turned back towards Bryant. 

Miles started forward, coming around the opposite side of the tangled vegetation. He reached out to pull some of the vines away, the sound of water much louder now. As he pulled, he heard the grinding of stone on stone and ducked as several bricks tumbled from the top of the wall. He backed up, staring at it, trying to assess how bad it was.

Waving away the dust from the dislodged bricks, he scowled and reached out to nudge the vines away, looking into the undergrowth. He spotted Veela's foot. “I see her!” He called out, pushing more of the vegetation aside.

“Veela!” He said urgently, trying to keep his voice calm, “Veela, laleh, your papa's out here, come on over here to me...” On the other side of the massive tangle of growth Taige began calling out to her.

The foot disappeared as she pulled back. Miles winced, remembering what Vesya had said to him about her. He glanced at the wall again, then turned towards it. Slipping his right arm and shoulder under the mass of vines, he lifted it as much out of the way as he could. Glancing down and in, he could just see Veela backed up against the blocks. She was looking up at him in terror, trying to make herself as small as she possibly could up against the base of the wall. 

“Veela, sweetie...” Miles lowered his voice. “C'mon over here. Your papa's with me.”

Veela, seeing him trying to edge further under the honeysuckle, scooted herself further away from him. He was alarmed to see her holding her arm against her body, realizing something wasn't right.  
Miles looked at the frightened child a moment, thinking it might be best to get Taige into his place when he heard a much louder sound of brick against brick. Worse was the sound of cracking.

Bryant, in the interim, before Scar could reach him, scrambled madly to his feet and with a growl began running towards the Colonel. He bent and caught Miles around the hips in a low tackle, slamming both of them against the wall. 

Miles was wholly unprepared for Bryant's tackle. The two men crashed into the wall and vegetation. He tried to twist around, to kick Bryant off of him when he barely caught sight of Scar grabbing the Sergeant by the scruff of his neck, jerking backwards.

Miles could sense and hear the ominous grinding and cracking, the structure began to lean his way, and he looked desperately at Veela.

“Shit!” he hissed out, seeing the entire wall begin to move. Miles did the only thing he could think of. He pitched himself forward, throwing his free arm out to try and sweep Veela under him. 

Everything abruptly went black.


	22. Chapter 22

****

## 21.

A considerable chunk of brick and morter crashed down over the top of the vine and well, sending up a billowing cloud of dust and debris. Water could be heard sloshing over the well's lip. Scar, hanging on to a struggling Bryant, could hear Taige yelling in horror as all three began choking and coughing from the mushrooming cloud of dust.

Turning away a moment, Scar switched his grip on Bryant. He reached up to clench a fist full of the Sergeant's uniform at his throat. Bryant grabbed Scar's wrist in both hands, attempting to kick him. He began struggling ferociously, spewing out a mouthful of curses. As the dust began to settle, Scar pulled back his other fist, preparing to at least stun the Sergeant into silence. 

What he didn't expect was Taige. 

He loomed up in front of Scar, Bryant's back to him. His face was set with a snarl and his red eyes glared in murderous rage.

Taige reached up behind his head, sticking his finger into the cord of horsehair he used to club his hair back. He jerked it out, snapping his hand to uncoil it. His hair spilled down his back as he wrapped one end of the cord around his hand then whipped the other end around Bryant's throat. Taige grabbed the loose end, twisted the cord, and wrapped it around his other hand. With a growl of fury he pulled back viciously hard. 

In a moment of clarity Scar realized what was about to happen and he released his grip on Bryant's uniform, causing the man to drop as he scrabbled frantically at the garrotte around his throat.

“Taige!” Scar snapped, as Bryant fell to his knees. Taige hunched over him, jerking the horsehair cord closer to his chest. A horrific, gargled, choking sound gurgled out of Bryant as he clawed at the cord. His tongue was protruding out of his mouth, eyes starting from his head.

Scar moved fast, throwing an arm around Taige's own throat and clamping his other arm over the top of Taige's head in a lock. He wrenched Taige bodily to one side.

“Let him go!” He raged in Taige's ear, pulling him back. “It's not worth it. Let him go!”

“I'll kill this son of a bitch!” Taige roared, trying to drag Bryant with him as Scar bodily twisted him to the left.

“No. You. Won't.” Scar growled back. “I need your help. You need to help Veela! They're trapped under that wall!”

Taige gripped the horsehair cord tighter, a howl of rage escaping him.

Scar grimaced, tightened the arm wrapped around Taige's own throat and released the Corporal's head. Pulling his fist back, he drove a knuckle hard into a nerve point on Taige's back, drilling it in and growling in frustration.

Taige's back arced and he roared in pain. He was forced to release his grip on the garrotte. Bryant dropped to the ground, unmoving, wheezing like a bellows. Panting hard, and struggling against the grip around his throat, Taige reached up, grabbing Scar's arm. 

“Are you going to listen to reason?” Scar demanded, tapping the back of one of Taige's knees with his foot in an effort to keep him off balance.

Chest heaving, Taige snarled, “He's a dead man!”

“Veela and Miles are under that rubble!” Scar snapped back. “We have to get them out!” Still not releasing him, Scar dragged him further away from Bryant. “Are you going to help? Or not!” Scar demanded. 

Taige, panting hard from the exertions, still gripped Scar's arm. 

“I can drop you right now if I have to!” Scar growled in his ear, purposely keeping Taige off balance. “But your child needs you!”

Another burst of pent up rage escaped Taige's throat.

“Listen to me!” Scar urged, “He's not worth it. Let this go. Veela needs you.”

The rage that erupted next was full of anguish this time as Scar continued wrestling with him.

“We need to get them out!” Scar reasoned. “I need your help!”

Gasps of inner turmoil continued escaping from Taige as he scrabbled for his footing. He abruptly stopped struggling, and began nodding his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “Okay,” he panted, “okay...”

Scar released him, reaching up to grip the Corporal's shoulder, steadying him. He turned him to face him.“Someone much wiser than me told me just hours ago that vengeance doesn't belong to us. It's up to Ishvala... Trust me, I've tried.” He steered Taige away from Bryant, “You don't need this. This jhavahal will get his comeuppance.” He patted Taige's shoulder, “I need you to focus on getting them out. Your child needs you!”

Taige nodded, saying nothing, his shoulders sagging in defeat. Scar gripped his shoulder, sending a silent message of understanding as they made their way to the collapsed wall.

***

In a curious quirk of fate, or quite possibly Ishvala's intervention, Veela lay on her stomach, facing Miles who also lay on his. Their heads were close together and clear of most debris, partially covered by the thick mat of vegetation. Veela was pinned in place, mostly by Miles himself. 

Miles on the other hand...

He was moaning, his eyes were closed, and blood trickled down his forehead. He was not moving at all. 

Veela stared at him, and began coughing from the dust. She glanced around, only able to see the vines above her. She struggled to move, finally freeing her right arm. She looked at Miles again.

“Zhaarad?” she whispered softly, reaching up to pat his sideburn. “Zhaarad?” 

Miles remained motionless, but he continued to moan.

She kept patting his cheek, “Zhaarad?” she asked again, looking around, tears beginning to well in her eyes. “Zhaarad?” Even she could tell something wasn't right.

Above her, a large shape loomed up casting the area into shadow. She stared up, fear in her eyes, still patting Miles on the cheek. 

“Veela?” She heard a familiar voice. “Veela?”

“Papa?” She asked softly, “Papa?” She glanced at Miles again, who was still moaning. “Zhaarad?” She was helpless and completely stuck.

Quietly, Veela started to cry, her hand patting Miles sideburn. She looked skyward. “Papa? Papa?”

***

“I hear something,” Taige said hoarsely, his voice strained, as he tried to make his way into the rubble pile. He grabbed chunks of blocks, tossing them aside. Scar waded into the mess as well, setting Achran to clearing out rubble on his left.

Scar paused in his efforts to remove bricks and listened. “It's Miles, something's wrong...”

“Veela?” Taige called out again. “Laleh? It's papa. Can you hear me?” 

All three men renewed their efforts to get the bricks away. It became quickly apparent that a large section of the wall had remained intact. Taige grabbed a huge section of the honeysuckle and hauled backwards, pulling away as much as he could. It was like wrestling an unruly, multi-armed, uncooperative living mass. Dust, old cobwebs, chunks of brick, and twigs flew everywhere.

“Hold it there a moment,” Scar ordered, reaching out to grab the main body of the vines. 

Before Taige could react he saw an arc of electric blue light travel crazily the length of Scar's right arm and the mass of vegetation suddenly let loose. Taige almost stumbled backwards as he looked at Scar in surprise, but then he managed to grab a great majority of the vine and haul it out of the way. He looked at Scar, who had a distinctly distasteful look on his face as he renewed grabbing blocks and brick in an effort to reach the two under it.

Taige scrambled his way further in, thrusting rubble and remaining vines out of the way, before finally hearing Veela's soft crying. He loomed above her, seeing her patting Miles' face, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Veela!” He gasped, reaching down to touch her head. He cast a quick look at Miles.

She glanced up, seeing him, and she began to hiccup, gasping for breath, struggling to move. Scar abruptly hove into view.

“Miles!” Scar said urgently. “Miles?” He could hear him moaning still. He grabbed the edges of the broken slab and tried moving the section of wall that lay over Miles' back. It wouldn't budge.

“Calm down, laleh!” Taige was saying to his daughter. “Don't move, moppet. We'll get you out. Just lie still.” He glanced at Scar. “She's pinned under him.”

“This thing won't budge,” Scar muttered then he looked at Taige. “Move in here. Use your body to protect their faces. Then turn your head.” Scar ordered. 

He straightened and pushed the sleeves of his tunic up, exposing both sets of tattoo arrays on his arms. Taige nodded, watching as Scar stood back, looking for the centre of the slab of wall.

“Achran,” Scar snapped, “Turn your head!”

Taige turned himself, his back to Scar, using his upper body to shield Miles' and Veela's faces. He crouched down low, laying his hand on top of Veela's head, trying to calm her down. “It's okay, laleh,” he murmured, “You'll be all right. We'll get you out in a minute. Close your eyes.”

He heard the distinctive snap of the transmutic energy then Scar's right hand slapped the brick wall. Following a flash of blue, an even louder, more explosive sound erupted out like a gunshot. Chunks of brick and morter flew everywhere, causing Taige to duck his head, throwing his arm up for added protection. His back was peppered with flying debris. Dust once again blew all around them. He turned back quickly, looking at Scar in disbelief. 

The entire section of wall had been obliterated.

Scar was scowling, clearly not happy having to use his alchemy and he glanced at Taige. With a shake of his head he forestalled any questions and began grabbing at the mound of broken rubble.

Under him Taige could hear Veela coughing and he started pulling debris off of her and Miles. He glanced back as Scar hurled chunks of rubble away. He quickly turned, dropping to his knee near Veela's head.

“Hold still, pet,” he murmured as Scar continued grasping the larger pieces of blocks, tossing them away.

“Careful when you lift her. I think her arm may be broke,” Scar warned as he focused on Miles, who had fallen silent.

Taige shot an alarmed look at him, as Scar tried to revive Miles. 

He looked at Taige. “I don't want to move him too much just yet. When I lift his shoulder slide her out.” 

Taige nodded, and leaned over Veela. “All right, pet,” he murmured to her, slipping his hand under her. “Take my arm, I'm going to pull you out,” Veela whimpered, but reached up and grabbed a fistful of Taige's sleeve. Taige glanced at Scar, who was sliding his hands under Miles' arm and shoulder. With a nod, Scar gently lifted Miles up and Taige eased Veela out from under him.

His relief was nearly palpable as he pulled his child free. He shifted back on his haunches, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in her hair, mindful of how she was holding her left arm to her side. Veela began to cry silently, her hiccuping starting all over again as she clung to her father.

“Sh, sh, shhh, baby, its okay, it's okay,” he murmured. “You're okay...”

“You take care of her,” Scar said quietly to him, “I'll see to Miles. Is help on the way?”

“Benji's got my map,” Taige said. 

Scar glanced at him puzzled.

“I've been following Ahcran and Deuel for weeks. Bryant masterminded this whole mess. They have a roomful of stolen goods in that building over there.” Taige nodded at the intact structure, holding Veela's head against his chest. “Bryant's been blackmailing the lower ranked soldiers to steal for him.”

Scar looked at him steadily for a second then sighed and shook his head in disgust. “The sooner that yaakhtai is out of this land, the better.”

Taige said nothing for a moment, just murmuring gently in Veela's ear. He looked at Scar, remorse in his eyes.

“My behaviour has been inexcusable,” he heaved a sigh, “Forgive me, Andakar,” he said quietly, rubbing Veela's back. “Please, just... forgive me.”

“I will,” Scar replied quietly, with a nod, then added with a sad smile on his lips, “I understand how it feels.” He paused, looking at him. “In more ways than you can possibly imagine.”

*** 

The sound of someone groaning brought some sort of awareness to Miles and he struggled to open his eyes. Then he realized it was him who was making the noise. A moan of pain escaped him, causing him to shut his eyes against a wave of nausea. He frowned, trying to move his arm, but something, a weight, was pinning his left shoulder down. 

He blinked, reaching up to his face with his free hand, noticing that his hair was loose, of all things. He struggled to open his eyes. It was, thankfully, rather dim and he was laying on his back in a room he didn't recognize. Trying to focus he ran his fingers across his forehead, stopping when they brushed up against a bandage on the left side of his head.

Another squeak of pain emerged and he tried to move. Wincing, he opened his eyes further and looked to the left.

A head with, long, soft, straight white hair lay on his arm, their face was turned away. Their arm was intertwined with his and a small hand gripped his fingers. It finally dawned on him that it was Vesya.

“Ves?” He croaked, appalled at how badly he sounded. He tried clearing his throat, only now understanding that she was asleep. He blinked, still frowning in confusion, reaching over to touch the side of her face. “Vesya?” He looked around the room, trying to place it. He failed completely. 

“Sweetheart?” He asked again, squeezing her fingers. Miles finally began to understand that he was laying in one of the hospital's beds. He tried to turn towards his wife but the pain in his back and shoulders in no uncertain terms told him not to. “Oh damn...” he hissed, laying back down. He reached behind his head, fingers probing and he felt a considerable sized lump at the back of his skull.

Vesya suddenly shifted and gasped, blinking a moment before focusing on his face. “Miles?” She asked, reaching up to rub at the kink in her neck from such an awkward position.

Miles was appalled at the look of grief, fear, and despair on her face. When she realized he was actually focusing on her, that he was really awake, she began to cry. He found himself smothered in a mixture of tears and relieved kisses. 

“Oh, Miles!” she cried, reaching up to cup his face. “Are you all right?” she asked studying his eyes, the tears streaming down her cheeks, “Please! Tell me you're all right!”

“I should be asking you that,” he mumbled, “I need some water...” He tried swallowing but his throat was constricted and dry. He felt like he had gravel in his mouth.

“Oh God! Miles, I've been so frightened!” She was searching his face, her eyes resting on the bandage above his left eye. 

“I seem to be okay,” he said hoarsely, pulling her hand up to his chest. “For the most part. Maybe just a little confused?” He raised his other eyebrow, grateful at least that that didn't cause any pain. He looked at his distraught wife. “Ves?”

She had gone alarmingly pale and he saw what looked like beads of perspiration on her temples. Her eyes were wide with a realization about something and she gulped, pushing herself back from the bed. “Forgive me!” She managed to squeak, slapping her hand over her mouth. She abruptly limped as fast as she could out of the room, leaving the door open.

“Ves?” Miles asked in growing confusion and alarm. He tried sitting up, but dropped back again at the wall of aches and pain that hit him. He could make out the sounds of people creating a hubbub in the outer room and then someone appeared in the doorway.

It was Marcoh, who was watching the departing figure of Vesya with a puzzled concern on his face. He turned to Miles. “Ah... you're awake.” He deliberately shut the door as figures began to draw near.

“What...?” Miles asked as Marcoh went over to a nearby lantern and lit it. He turned the flame up just a little and set it closer to Miles' bed. 

“She's a little emotional,” Marcoh said, giving Miles a professional once over with his eyes. “I didn't have the heart to wake her up when she fell asleep in here earlier. It's been a bit of a trying couple of days.”

“Is she all right?” Miles managed to ask as he squinted against the light. Then he frowned looking sharply at Marcoh. “Couple of days?”

“A little bruised and terribly worried about you, but yes, she's all right.” Marcoh said.

“What is going on?” Miles grumbled, flexing his left arm, which felt as bruised as the rest of him. “And can I get some water?”

“Answer a few questions for me first, then I'll tell you.” Marcoh responded, pulling a familiar little light out of his pocket. At the look Miles gave him he added, “Just humour me, Colonel.”

“How long have I been out of it this time?” Miles grumbled, recalling his run in with Ishvalan Desert Fever.

“Not quite 36 hours. I'll fill you in with more in a moment. Now answer these questions.” The doctor asserted. 

Miles sighed in disgust and some alarm but then acquiesced to Marcoh's request. 

After a few moments of poking, prodding and questions, Marcoh looked at him with satisfaction.

“Well, for someone who had a brick wall fall on top of him, you got very lucky. You're pretty much intact. No broken bones, only a mild concussion as far as I can see, and just a few stitches on your forehead. What's hurting no doubt is all the bruising. You're gonna be a sore puppy for a while.”

Miles looked at him blankly. 

“Brick wall?” he asked.


	23. Chapter 23

****

## 22.

Marcoh gave Miles a ghost of a smile, and ran his hand down the corners of his mouth. “I really should bring Naisha in here to answer your questions, I think it's her turn.” He reached up and patted Miles shoulder gently at the look of bafflement that crossed the Colonel's face. He turned to the night stand and poured a glass of water.

Before handing it to him, he helped Miles sit up, a task that caused the Colonel a bit of discomfort. He really was that sore. Miles settled back into the pillows with a sigh, took the glass and drained the water out of it gratefully.

“You've been semi lucid, since they brought you in.” Marcoh explained, sitting on the edge of the bed, facing him. He folded his arms across his leg. “They pulled you out from under a brick wall. You've been asking questions in a repeat loop, and you've been disorientated. These are signs of concussion. You finally fell into a proper sleep about ten hours ago. What you are asking now is quite lucid. And you don't appear to be disorientated any more.” Marcoh explained carefully, sounding pleased.

“Repeat loop?” Miles asked, clutching the glass and looking at Marcoh, perplexed. 

Marcoh smiled, a hint of impish humour on his face. By rote he replied, “What happened? Where's Veela? Did anyone get hurt? Has anyone been killed? Where's my wife? I need a head count. Is Veela injured? Where is Benji? Who's manning the fort? Where the _hell_ is Taige?”

Miles stared at him. “Well?” he asked.

Marcoh chuckled, “You've been asking these questions repeatedly, not just once or twice, I'm talking about twenty odd times now, since they pulled you out from under the wall. We've started taking turns answering your questions. Again.”

“What wall?” Miles asked irritably, trying to think. His head hurt, and no wonder...

“Just relax, man, let me get you another glass of that,” Marcoh took the glass and refilled it. “What's the last thing you remember, Miles?” He asked handing the glass back to him.

Miles paused a moment, trying to recall. “I was,” he paused, “I was chewing my Corporal a new one for reasons I would rather not explain. Havoc had driven us to a point just outside of the Daliha ruins. Taige had a map. Speaking of, where is he?”

“That's one of your questions.” Marcoh said. 

Miles just glared at him over the top of the glass.

Marcoh smirked. “He's in a room down the hall with his daughter.”

Miles frowned, trying to recall. “They found her all right?”

“You did, actually.”

Miles gave him a blank look.

Marcoh took a breath, “According to what the others have said, you found where Veela had hid herself from Sergeant Bryant. When you did find her, the Sergeant tackled you into a brick wall that was top heavy from a badly overgrown vine. The both of you hit it such that the wall fell over on top of you. It could have crushed you. As it was, you turned just enough that the wall landed on your back and the edge of a well. You had the presence of mind to pull Veela to you as it came down. You kept her from getting crushed as well.”

Miles frowned. “You mean she got away from him? I.. I don't remember any of this!” He reached up, gingerly tucking some of his hair behind his ear, before reaching back and fingering the lump.

“I'm not surprised. A good sized block had to have connected with the back of your head. We've been watching you carefully ever since. And...” Marcoh smirked. “Answering your repeat loop of questions.”

“Speaking of?” Miles growled.

“Well, I just told you what happened. Apparently you were out to apprehend Bryant, not only for kidnapping and assault, but for theft as well. Bryant's in the stockade by the way.”

Miles was looking at him with irritated perplexity. He was only recalling pieces and parts of this. Especially the part where Veela had been kidnapped. “That son of bitch assaulted my wife!”

“Yes, he did, and she is fine, though a bit bruised at the moment. You two make a fine matched set.”

Miles clenched his eyes shut a moment, struggling to remember anything. He reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to control his agitation. “Who the hell is manning the fort?”

“Benji, with ahhh, with a bit of assistance.” Marcoh said hesitantly, then quickly added, “Andakar, Taige and Achran were the ones to get you out from under that wall before Benji arrived with reinforcements. That should bring you up to date.”

“Am I going to remember any of this?” Miles asked, still perplexed.

Marcoh shrugged. “It's a minor brain injury, Miles. What you're experiencing is very mild anterograde amnesia. Meaning you aren't recalling things after the initial injury. You're short term memory hasn't been transferring information to the long term memory. Like it is now. Your brain is going to sulk about it for a while. You may or may not recall everything, but thank Ishvala, you're alert and aware now, so long as you don't clobber your skull for the next few months.”

Marcoh stood up. “There's a crowd out there waiting to see how you are. I better give them an update. You can have a few visitor's until you start feeling tired, but then you need to rest. You're not leaving here for another day of so.”

Miles groaned and Marcoh grinned. “That's my orders, Colonel,” he said, turning for the door. When Marcoh came back out, Scar, Rada, Naisha, Benji and a couple of other soldier's all turned towards him.

“He's fine...” Marcoh said quickly, “He's got a little memory loss, not a bad one, but he's fine.” They began peppering him with questions.

As he was speaking Bozidar came into the room from one of the hallways. At about the same time, Vesya emerged from the ladies room, looking pale and sheepish, wiping a damp piece of paper towel across her face.

Bozidar, who had stopped next to Scar, saw her, ran a hand down his face, and heaved a sigh. “Oh, sweet Ishvala!” He murmured, closing his eyes and shaking his head in despair.

“Saahad?” Scar asked looking at him curiously as Vesya hurried towards Marcoh. She was intercepted by the other two women.

Bozidar shook his head. “Ishvala have mercy on my absent minded soul, my son. I forgot to do something.” He looked a little sheepish himself. He approached Marcoh, who caught sight of him out of the corner of his eye.

Rada and Naisha were fussing over Vesya, who still looked decidedly upset and ill. Marcoh was reassuring Benji and the two soldiers with him that their Colonel was going to be fine. As Bozidar drew up to him, he leaned over and listened as the priest whispered something in his ear. Marcoh started and looked at him.

“Are you sure?” 

Bozidar just smiled, enigmatically.

“Well, well, well...” Marcoh said smiling slightly. “That explains a few things,” he looked at Benji. “Is himself still with the Corporal?” He asked, standing up straight.

“Yes, he is.”

“All right, tell him he can talk with the Colonel for a little bit, but if he gets tired, he's to let him rest.”

“That I can do,” Benji said and sent one of the soldiers back the way Bozidar had come from. Benji himself approached Miles' room.

Marcoh stepped over to Vesya. “Vesya dear, come with me for a moment will you?” He murmured quietly.

She gasped looking at Marcoh, her eyes wide with fear. “Is it Miles?” She felt the Doctor's steadying hand on her elbow and he steered her away from Rada and Naisha. Naisha was looking confused and Rada turned slightly, looking at Vesya then Andakar. Concern writ all over her face. Scar remained as implacable as ever.

“Miles is going to be fine. I keep telling you that. I just have a few questions to ask you, nothing to worry about...” Marcoh smiled reassuringly.

“What is going on?” Naisha demanded.

“It's all right, Naisha, we'll be back in a few minutes,” Marcoh said, leading Vesya away. He reassured her that she could return to Miles side in a few minutes. 

Naisha scowled, folding her arms and glared around the room, letting out a huff of frustration.

“It's going to be okay,” Rada said to her, patting her arm. “You heard Doctor Marcoh.” 

“Excuse me a moment.” Scar said, silently slipping off down the hallway. Rada glanced after him then she drew in a silent breath of air. Naisha had turned from her, shaking her head in annoyance. Rada just smiled serenely and caught Bozidar's gaze. 

He had the same look on his face.

***

In the Colonel's room, Benji stood tentatively in the doorway, eyeing him uncertainly. Miles was sitting up, but he lay back into several pillows and his eyes were closed. He looked a damn sight better than he did when they had first pulled him out from behind that old well.

“I know you're standing there, Benji.” Miles growled, then cracked an eye open, looking his way.

“My apologies,” Benji said and saluted.

Miles just cast a weary look his way and shook his head. “I'm too damned sore for that,” he grumbled.

“Oooo, that may not be so good...” Benji said entering the room, he nudged the door nearly shut and turned towards his Colonel.

“How so?” Miles asked, closing his eyes again.

“Himself is here.” Benji replied. There was a pause then Miles looked at him sharply.

“Ah shit!” He hissed, reaching up to run his hand through his hair, he stopped and realized it was still loose, and he scowled in irritation. “When did he show up?”

“About twelve hours ago. Don't you remember? He came alone. Drove down. In his own car.” 

Miles frowned and glanced at his adjutant. Brigadier General Roy Mustang had driven down to Ishval, by himself, in his own car. Riza Hawkeye, scratch that, Riza Mustang, was not with him.

That could mean any number of things.

Benji looked chagrined. “I'm sorry, sir, I had to contact him. We didn't know how long you were going to be out of it, so to speak. You've been on this repeat loop of questions, and you've been rather unsettled. That is until you finally fell asleep on us.” The Sergeant Major paused. “The General also requested access to your files...”

Miles sighed, probing the lump on the back of his head. “He has the right to, Benji, in the case of an incapacitated commander. You gave him access, right?”

“Yes sir.” 

“That's fine then, you did the right thing. Where is he staying?”

“The Ruhad's”

“Of course. Where is he now?”

“He's been holed up with Corporal Taige in the little mite's room. Just waiting for you to get an all clear from Doctor Marcoh.”

Miles dropped his hand, looking around him a moment. “It's just as well. Did he get Taige's files?”

“Yes sir. And he returned them.” 

Miles nodded, then sighed, “Can you find me something, anything, for me to tie this mess back with?” He asked, running his hand through his hair. 

“Since when did I become your hairdresser?” Benji asked with an impish grin.

“Don't start with me...” Miles growled. 

Benji just smirked and tugged open the night stand drawer. He rummaged in it a second then pulled out the hair tie Miles normally used. He handed it to him. “I am heartily glad to hear you making much better sense, sir. You've had quite a few of us worried.” Benji said with genuine relief.

“Just humour my repeated questions,” Miles grumbled, gingerly pulling his hair back. “All I can remember is standing by Havoc's truck having a conversation with Taige. What happened after that?” He didn't cinch the band around his hair any tighter than necessary.

Benji drew himself up. He'd been fully prepared for this. As was his wont, he detailed --in an economy of words-- just what had occurred since Miles had entered the Daliha ruins. By the time he was done, Miles had a stern look on his face and was thinking hard.

“So Sergeant Bryant is in the stockade, in cuffs to keep him from going anywhere, and with four posted guards. He's not talking anyway, since he can't for the time being.” Benji said. 

Miles looked at him, waiting for an explanation.

“Let's just say Corporal Taige subdued him. Rather efficiently.”

“Meaning he didn't kill him?” Miles asked. 

“Not quite,” Benji said and a hint of a smirk ghosted his lips. 

Miles was about to ask him to explain further when there came a knock on the door. 

Roy Mustang eased it open, entering the room. Benji turned and instantly snapped a salute, Miles started to follow him, but Mustang waved him off. “Don't bother, Colonel,” He said returning Benji's acknowledgement.

“I apologize, sir...” Miles started. 

“Forget it, Miles. Benji would you mind finding us another chair?” Roy asked as he stepped into the room. He looked tired, his black hair falling over into his eyes. Miles realized that the General hadn't slept in a while.

“Right away, sir.” Benji said and stepped out of the room. 

“Benji will you also find out what is going on with my wife..?” Miles suddenly asked as he left.

“Yes, sir!” Benji's voice floated back.

Roy shut the door, then stepped over and pulled the chair Vesya had been sitting in away from the bed. “You look and sound a significant amount better.” He commented.

“I still feel like I've been thrown by one of my horses.”

“Is that what having a wall fall on you feels like?” Roy smirked ever so slightly, sitting down. “I've asked Corporal Taige to join us in a few minutes, but before he gets here I have a few questions I want to ask you.” He crossed his legs, sitting back and set his hands on his knee, steepling his fingers together.

“I've got plenty myself...” Miles remarked. 

Mustang smirked at him. “I think it's Naisha's turn to answer them. Then Rada. I'm after her.”

“Funny.” Miles said flatly. 

Roy huffed in amusement. “You've certainly created a bit of a hubbub down here.”

“Prompting you to drive out here on your own, in your own car?” Miles looked at him, “What's that all about?”

“What that is all about is keeping Western Command none the wiser.” Roy said simply.

Miles studied him a moment, settling back into the pillows, his mind veering down another track. “You want this to look like an unofficial visit...”

Roy nodded sagely, “What's going to happen here in a few minutes has, by order of Grumman, been quashed. It's considered highly delicate information. No one is to know anything more about it but yourself, me, Corporal Taige and Grumman himself, for the time being.”

“It's that sensitive?” Miles asked, understanding that the General had been keeping the Fuhrer apprised of the situation. 

Quashed by order of the Fuhrer. 

What. The. Hell..?

“As far as anyone is concerned. I'm just down here visiting. What's happened to you, stays in Ishval. This little kerfluffle,” Roy grinned, he'd wanted to say that for so long, “... is just a little hiccup in a new command, nothing serious, especially now that we know you're going to be all right.” 

He paused a moment. “We especially want Western Command to think that is what it is.”

“I see...” Miles pondered. “What was it you wanted to ask me?”

“What do you intend to do with Taige?”

“Huh!” Miles huffed, “That's a loaded question.”

“I've had a few hours to talk with him. That girl of his,” Roy smiled slightly, “Curly hair on a Ishvallan.” He shook his head in wonder. “Such a tiny little thing. I don't blame the guy for what he did.” 

“She's had quite a time of it.” Miles murmured, wondering just what it was Taige had done.

“So I understand. It's another charge going against the Sergeant. I'm having him shipped to Central for court martial.”

“And to keep his mouth shut?” Miles asked.

“That and it may be a while before he can speak again anyway...” Roy smiled slyly. “So, what's your intentions with Taige?”

“I haven't really decided yet.” Miles said thoughtfully. “You've had to have read his files by now.”

“Oh yeah...” Roy said significantly.

“Then you know what his connection to my past is.”

“That, and the more the years go by, the more I learn about Maes Hughes. Things I never even knew about.” Roy shook his head, a touch of sadness in his dark eyes. “I knew he was deep, twistedly so, but what I just read and what I have just heard makes me realize I never really knew him as well as I should have.”

“Regrets a bitch, huh?”

“And how. So, what do you have in mind?”

“He's a fine horseman. Has a style uniquely his own, or perhaps Ishvallan's own. He obeys orders, even when they aren't particularly nice and he doesn't argue. He's reasonable. He has an extraordinary knack for intelligence gathering as well.”

“But?”

“He has a nasty habit of withholding information. I don't know if I can trust him.”

“Do you intend to keep him?” Roy asked.

“I don't know...” Miles said.

“Make up your mind, Colonel.” Roy prodded and smiled slightly. “You're a commander, Miles. You need your own team... Not saying anything wrong with this, but you've got Benji, a Sergeant Major, currently being your adjutant and your second. And that's all. You need to start working on that...” He raised a hand, forestalling the protest that Miles was about to make.

“I know you're just starting to get this fort up and running, but its something you've got to consider. If you don't intend to keep Taige on, I want to snatch him up for me.”

“So why don't you?” Miles asked, pinching the bridge of his nose, irritated.

“He refused.” Roy said. 

Miles looked sharply at him. “Refused?”

“Flatly. He will not go to any other district for enlistment. He will only stay here. In Ishval.”

“And if he's ordered?” Miles asked.

“He'd rather go AWOL.” Roy smirked again. “And he could very well do it too.”

“That said, why should I keep him?” Miles sighed, feeling his aches and pains.

“You've been given a gift horse, Miles. Hell, he walked in here and offered himself for your service.  
When you hear what he has to say, maybe you'll understand better. He's had a hell of a time of it. Shit, he's confirmed so much of what I have been suspecting about the West, its mind boggling. I'd love to keep him!”

Miles heaved a sigh. “He's definitely not adjutant materiel. Or over-all command material for that matter.”

“But you've got one hell of an intelligence officer on your doorstep, Miles. Fully trained, with contacts. As one commander to another, Miles, if your Ishvala is blessing you? Don't pass this guy up!”

Miles sighed and looked at Roy, sensing the General was holding back. Roy saw it.

“I asked him to join us so he could explain further. You'll fully understand when he's done.”

Mustang sounded so very sure.


	24. Chapter 24

****

## 23.

Veela was trussed up like a little goose and lay sprawled on top of her father.

Her left arm was snugly bandaged across her chest. The index knuckle on her hand was pressed against her lips. Her other arm was wrapped around his shoulder and her head was turned so that she could listen to his heart beating. Rada had provided an incredibly soft, wool, child's blanket which was tucked around her and she appeared, by all accounts, to be asleep.

Laying back on her bed, one leg bent to the floor, Taige held her there against his chest, occasionally rubbing her back. Someone had cleaned her up and her hair smelled a little like soap and flowers. He heaved a sigh, feeling utterly exhausted. He had spent so much time reporting what had happened, writing things up and sitting around waiting to see what was happening with his child and his commander. He wondered for perhaps the thousandth time just how much more any of them could take.

Their whole future now rested in the hands of Colonel Miles.

He had learned Marcoh was a former State Alchemist, now committed to helping the people of Ishval. He had used his own particular alchemy to relocated Veela's shoulder and set the humerus bone in her arm at the same time. A bit painful for her, but done in one quick procedure. Marcoh could have gone further, knitting the bones back together. He declined, citing that her bones from the malnutrition were somewhat weak. A normal, natural healing was best. He explained the area would be stronger than ever from that process.

Taige mulled over the conversation he'd had with Brigadier General Mustang. The honest to Ishvala, Flame Alchemist himself. Taige stared at the far wall. He knew what part Mustang had in the war of extermination, and he also knew what part he played, and was still playing, in the aftermath. If he came back with one thing, Mustang was sincerely and fully behind Ishval and its people. Hell, the man was staking his entire military and political career on the outcome.

It was Bozidar's brief visit and prayers that had finally brought a little peace to his heart. Taige felt he carried so much weight that it was a relief for a change for someone to step in and help a little with the some of the heavier burdens. 

He was pondering on that when there was a soft rapping on the door and a soldier poked his head in. Taige glanced over the top of Veela's head at him. His red eyed glare seemingly pinning the soldier at the door.

“Sorry to disturb you, sir,” the soldier swallowed nervously. “The General is asking you to join him.”

Taige only nodded, and looked down at his child. With a sigh, he shifted his hands and eased her up further onto his shoulder, then sat up. She was out of it, probably from the pain medication Marcoh has prescribed. Her bare legs hung loosely under his arm. He stood up.

In the hallway, he met up with Scar, who was just shutting the door of another room. There was a faintly amused smile on his face and he fell in alongside Taige as they walked down the hall. Scar looked over, checking on Veela.

“The sleep of children...” he murmured. 

Taige nodded. “Finally,” he said, “She's hurting and her nightmares are back.” 

Scar shook his head with a scowl, pondering on why he had decided to stop Taige from garotting Bryant. “And you?” Scar asked. 

“Not a wink.”

“You really need to get some rest as well you know...” Scar rumbled, reaching up and gripping the Corporal's shoulder.

“Can't just yet. I got to go see them.” Taige said indicating Miles and Mustang.

“You'd think they'd give you a bit of time to deal with this.” Scar grumbled as they entered the lobby. He released Taige's shoulder and looked at Naisha and Bozidar.

“Naisha, your sister needs you,” He nodded back down the hallway.

“What?” Naisha shot a worried look at him. 

“Just go. Don't argue.” Scar said as Rada come up to Taige, giving her husband a ghost of a knowing smile. She tugged a little of the blanket down, peering into Veela's bruised face.

“Poor little thing...” she murmured.

Taige sighed. “Would you mind taking her? I've got to meet with them.” He nodded at Miles' room, where both soldier's had surreptitiously taken up positions on either side of the doorway.

“Of course...” Rada said, starting to reach out.

“Let me,” Scar said. 

Bozidar smiled, a hint of amusement directed at his former pupil.

Transferring from one shoulder to another, disturbed Veela enough that she whimpered, starting to fuss. She rubbed her face into Scar's tunic as he settled her comfortably.

“Go back to sleep, moppet,” he murmured into her curls, setting one big hand on her back. He glanced down at Rada, gave her a nod towards the hallway and a wink. She tucked the blanket in around Veela, reaching up to pat the little girl's back. She smiled knowingly at Bozidar before she excused herself and walked briskly down the hall. Benji had appeared and she paused, talking to him before entering the room.

At about that moment they heard Naisha's voice suddenly explode with a muffled outburst from behind the door.

Taige frowned, glanced at Rada's retreating back then looked at Scar.

“You'll find out soon enough,” Scar rumbled, patting Veela's back gently, a smile tugged slightly at his lips. Bozidar just chuckled.

Taige shrugged, reaching up to set his hand on the back of Veela's head, seeing she had fallen back to sleep.

“Well, I'd better get this over with,” He said with a sigh.

Scar looked at him, and frowned. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means I may not have a military career after this, depending on the outcome.” Taige said.

“My son,” Bozidar said to him gently. “Trust that He will work it all out.” He gave him a reassuring smile as Taige nodded at him and approached Miles' door. “Andakar? There's something I'd like to talk to you about, if you don't mind.” Bozidar said, and smiled at Scar, who was looking a little puzzled.

“Just trust me...” the old priest replied.

***

The two soldier's, both privates, snapped to attention at the Corporal's approach. Taige returned it, before running his hand through his hair, still falling loosely down his back. He rapped on the door then entered Miles' room.

Roy waved off his salute, “Just shut the door, Corporal.” He said and nodded at the extra chair Benji had found.

Taige looked at Miles. “You look much better,” he commented. 

Miles had raised an eyebrow in curiosity at the fact he'd never seen Taige with his hair unclubbed. The man's hair fell clear down to the middle of his back. 

“You don't,” Miles replied, seeing how haggard his Corporal looked. “Have you had any sleep?”

“No sir.” Taige rumbled, readjusting the chair between Miles and Mustang. He slowly sank into it, resting his arms across his legs and clasping his fingers. He didn't think he should dare sitting back.

“Veela?” Miles asked. 

“Asleep, finally. Andakar's got her.”

“Fat surprise there...” Roy joked softly.

“Is she all right?” Miles asked.

“Broken arm. Messed up shoulder. Bruises on her face where he almost asphyxiated her.” Taige waved a hand at himself before re-clenching his fingers. “She's hurting a bit. Marcoh's taken good care of her.”

“I hear a but in there?” Roy asked.

“Her nightmares have returned. Her previous experience damaged her. I'm afraid this may have set her back. We just have to wait and see.”

“Are you serious?” Roy asked, alarmed. 

Taige nodded.

“Son of a bitch...” Miles grumbled. He looked at the Corporal. “I'm genuinely sorry, Taige.”

“Nothing we could do about it, now.” Taige responded, acknowledging Miles' concern. He glanced at Mustang. “She's been through enough the last few years.”

Mustang heaved a sigh. “I should say so...” he paused and sat back. “Let's get this thing taken care of so you can get back to her.” He said, steering the conversation. “I've already told this to Miles' but I need to tell you. What we are about to discuss is, by order of Fuhrer Grumman, to remain classified information between the three of us, and him. Not even MI is to know.”

Miles watched as Taige listened then nodded, his Corporal wasn't the least bit surprised.

“Go ahead and tell the Colonel what it was you were doing before your arrest and decommissioning.” Roy said.

Taige nodded and looked at Miles. “I know you ran one of the finest intelligence networks for Briggs command, Colonel, but did you ever hear of the Exploring Officers?”

Miles studied him a moment. “Exploring Officers?”

“They were a unit, commissioned in 1905 by Military Intelligence. Expressly created for gathering intelligence. Inside and outside of Amestris.” Taige paused, watching Miles' face and seeing the look of interest.

“You were probably aware of six of us. They worked intelligence for Drachma,” Taige rattled off a few names, causing Miles to frown upon recalling some of them. “All told there were eighteen of us. Twelve Amestrians, and six Ishvallan's. Six worked Drachma, six Creta, and six Aurego. The Ishvallans were all from the South City Cavalry and we worked Aurego.”

Taige drew in a deep breath, as if he was about to unload a heavy burden. “Captain Hughes, I guess he was posthumously elevated to Brigadier General?” He glanced at Roy, who nodded. 

“General Hughes,” Taige corrected himself, “In 1905, came up with the idea of sending in certain individuals recruited out of the calvary units to collect intelligence. If necessary we were to sow seeds of confusion and in some cases, plant false intelligence to confuse the enemy. Mostly, what we knew of these places was sketchy, and in a lot of cases, non-existent.” 

“Much like what we've been learning about Ishval. The past administration had a strangle hold on all information.” Mustang pointed out.

“And how...” Miles said, “We'll be dealing with it for a long time to come.”

“That's where he comes in,” Roy replied with a smug look and nodded at Taige.

“Carry on, Corporal,” Miles indicated, shaking his head gently at Mustang.

“Sir,” Taige murmured and continued. “Hughes wanted cavalry men who could operate independently. He was looking for men who could get information. Be able to map accurately. Create networks of intelligence gathering. All without raising the suspicions of the governments concerned. These men were allowed to go in uniform, or in civilian clothes, depending on the situation. All of us on horseback. We were allowed to mingle with the people, especially the rural folks and some of them in smaller cities. Sometimes even with other military personnel on the other side.”

“By yourselves?” Miles asked, looking intently at Taige.

“Independent missions. All approved through Military Intelligence. A lot of your information that is highly accurate about Drachma, came by way of an Exploring Officer. We all knew the risks involved. We'd get no help if captured. It was a crazy plan, but Hughes' simply knew it would work.”

“And it worked beyond what anyone in MI could even think.” Roy pointed out.

“That is bat shit crazy,” Miles said, flatly.

Taige smirked and replied with heavy implication, “A lot of us were.”

“So what happened?” Miles asked.

“Things started heating up, especially in the Ishvallan Theatre. Central was closing down our borders. Fixating more on internal turmoil than what was happening outside of the country. General Hughes began learning about certain policies being crafted in Central Command, with Western Commands help, about the Ishvallan people. Ishvallan officers began to be summoned to Central from all over Amestris. Upon arrival, they would disappear.”

Miles looked at Taige for a long moment then flicked his gaze at Mustang. “Victims of Central's plot?”

“Yup.” Roy confirmed.

Taige could sense something underlying that statement but controlled his own curiosity.

“Hughes began trying to circumvent these changes, attempting to find the source of such policy, but he was constantly frustrated by both Central and Western's disregard, or flat refusals, of his requests. So he decided, on the sly, to send us in.”

“By this time, we began learning about hundreds of Ishvallan refugees being rounded up and sent to camps. Three of the worst in Western Amestris. All the camps were highly secret locations. Refugees went in and very few came back out. Worse, the decommissioning of Ishvallan officers increased. “

“By 1908, you were the highest ranking one left. Simply because you've got mixed races in your background. It came to Hughes' attention that you were on Central's radar and he determined that the best thing to do was to get you sent to Briggs. While he was planning that, one of my contemporaries got wind that Western, through Central, cut the orders for your arrest. Hughes sent us to intercept those orders.”

Taige raised his hands, “The rest I told you about.”

“Tell him what happened after you got those arrest warrants destroyed.” Mustang said softly.

“There were three of us, my two partners were shot by order of Western Command on sight. I had just enough time to burn your warrants. I was able to get a message to Hughes. Then I got out of West City before I was captured in Wellesley. That created enough of an uproar to get you successfully transferred. I was charged with treason and sent to the Mawestown Internment camp. Considering my experience with intelligence, that was most sensible charge that could stick.”

Taige drew in a breath, slowly letting it out. He stared down at his hands, noticing they were starting to shake. The other two didn't fail to see it.

“Conditions at the Western Camps were, and I might say still are, unspeakable. Ishvallans, and any sympathizers, are being worked to death, they're being starved, disease is rampant, living conditions are ...” Taige stopped, shook his head and gripped his fingers like a vice to keep from trembling.

Miles stopped him. “Still!?” He demanded.

“Still...” Taige said, nodding his head.

Miles looked at Roy. “This has to stop!”

“It has, in all the other districts of Amestris that had adopted Western's policies, but Western has not rescinded any of their orders. They are stonewalling and burying in red tape anything that has to do with Ishvallan refugees in the West. We've barely made a dent in at least improving the living conditions and getting food for them. Western is throwing up every legal block they can to prevent those camps from being closed. Keep going, Taige.” Roy nudged.

Taige flexed then clenched his fingers. “While at Mawestown, I could see what was happening. People, our people, were being experimented on. Men, especially soldiers and priests, were being rounded up and shipped to Central. Trains came in and out at all hours of the day and night. The women were being forced to dig graves for those who were dropping dead from disease and starvation. Children were working in garment factories for twelve, fourteen hours days. There was punishment for not making quota. At Mawestown there were certain buildings where women and children were sent, and didn't come back out...” Taige paused a moment.

“Our people...” He said struggling with an inner turmoil, “Our people were being buried in open pits. Just thrown on top of one another. They were treating us like cattle. Food wasn't fit to feed a pig. The conditions were, are...” Taige struggled for control, “Inhuman.” He choked out.

He stopped again, and both men could see scenes so horrific they couldn't be described playing behind Taige's eyes. He looked at Roy, grinding his teeth.

“You can stop...” Roy said quietly. “Just tell us how you got out.”

“I knew...” Taige grated out, gripping his fingers tightly, his hands still shaking. “I knew I only had a short amount of time. I was an Ishvallan officer. I watched the guards. Myself, Saahad Tosca, his cousin Ahna, and two others. We figured out their routines. We devised an escape plan. All of us knew, we either escaped or we'd die. We decided we would rather die trying. By then we were all skin and bones. We found a weakness in the razor-wire fencing. Our main concern was if the dogs were let loose. They were, but by that time we had made it to the Rheos River and lost them. One of us drowned in the crossing.”

Taige sighed, “We went to ground at a refugee settlement near Pendleton. For the next few years we travelled. Things slowed down. Pendleton was having terrible border skirmishes with Creta. We couldn't get far. I was wanted. People in the slums throughout Western Amestris knew who we were. They made every effort to shield us from West City Command. Even from the bounty hunters. On a return trip through Pendleton,Veela was born. Her mother died shortly after the birth. I then had a baby to raise. News came that we had been spotted. We had to get out of Western Amestris.”

Taige let his shoulders drop. “We decided, again, to head north. By way of Drachma. Because of what I knew from the Exploring Officers. We were able to get into North Amestris. Another one of our group died of hypothermia. Saahad Tosca, Veela and I finally made it. I was able to find work. Tosca had contracted trench fever by then. We made it to Victoria. That was where Veela was kidnapped the first time. Three days after that I rescued her. We immediately headed for Central. We heard that Ishval was reopening. We just wanted to come home.”

Taige drew in another breath and slowly released it. “Tosca however, had contracted dysentery. He died in the wilderness between the three districts. After that, I came to Central, and got what MI 'officially' called my records. I registered Veela and myself as returning citizens and I came home. The rest you know.”

There was a long moment of silence that followed. Miles could see that Taige looked nauseated and exhausted.

Finally Roy spoke up.

“Before you say anything Miles, let me reiterate. We're doing everything we can to get Western to both improve the conditions of the refugees in West Amestris and to close those damn camps. I'd like nothing more than to see Briggs cut loose on them, but Grumman is exercising caution because we just stopped a major coup on Central. The last thing we need is more civil war, despite the Ishvallan's involved. A second uprising would devastate our already shaky economy. Plus this time we are dealing with Ishvallan and Amestrians alike.” 

Roy sighed. “We're also trying to get Western's intel on those camps. Like I said earlier, Western is throwing out every legal obstacle that they can. Short of marching in there, we have to be patient. We know of the injustices occurring and are doing what we can to bring some relief. Western does not want Ishvallans leaving West Amestris.”

“People are dying...” Miles growled at him, sitting back into his pillows.

“We know, but if we force it, even more people will die.”

Miles saw Taige silently nod his head. 

“Unfortunately sir, he's right,” he rumbled.

“Do you understand now why Grumman wants this silenced for the time being?” Roy asked.

“What about Andakar?” Miles asked.

Roy heaved a sigh, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose, his eyes squeezed shut. “He is especially not to know about it. As well as Major General Armstrong. If you are asked by any superior, you're both to defer to Grumman.”

“You realize what kind of position this is going to put me in?” Miles looked sharply at Roy.

“I'm aware. If there's any fall out, it will reflect on me, and ultimately, Fuhrer Grumman.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter of this story is coming up, and with it, a very special Short Story Epilogue. Hang on just a teeny bit longer!


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well. Here it is, the last chapter. 
> 
> Keep reading past it, there is an epilogue I never expected to write but it occurred and it is short story unto itself. It also has one of the most amazing OC's I've ever come across... Capn_hoozit's irrepressible Shua!

****

## 24.

Miles squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head and instantly regretted it. “General... you realize Major General Armstrong is my former commanding officer and Andakar is my cousin-in-law? He's family and he's the damn Governor of Ishval! This is our people we are talking about!”

“Trust me Miles, I know. You're not going to have to sit on this though. If you decide to retain the Corporal here, he can continue to get intelligence from Western regarding the situation. The both of us can get ready to help those Ishvallan's that are there when the time is right.” Roy said. “And this time,” Roy glanced at Taige, “You won't be left to hang if something goes wrong. You both will be tacitly acting under Grumman's orders. That will carry a lot of clout.” He continued.

“Taige has first hand knowledge both from the outside and from the inside, of Western's policies. Handled just right,” Mustang shot an impish smirk at the Corporal, “He can be a lethal weapon against them. I, personally, can't think of a better person to handle that, than you.” Mustang looked pointedly at Miles.

Miles, still not happy about the position he was being put in, studied Mustang a moment and could see what the General meant. He glanced at Taige. Several possible ideas were already blooming in his thoughts.

He wondered if they weren't side effects of the concussion. This was nuts.

“This...” Miles' frown deepened and he shook his head. “Keeping this under our belt so to speak, isn't exactly to my liking, sir.” Miles continued shaking his head, his eyes reflecting the turmoil it was causing. “If this thing comes to light...”

“Especially here in Ishval, I know Miles, I can't stop thinking about it myself. Especially after hearing his account of what is actually happening in just one of those camps. What could be going on in the others?” Roy asked, nodding at Taige.

“Being there, living in the Western refugee communities, I've heard some of the stories...” Taige said. “Abominable doesn't come close. The open pit burials were bad enough.” He rumbled.

Miles glanced at him, Taige was running his hand through his hair, pulling the thick mane back, his eyes reflecting his own horror's. The Colonel came to a decision.

“You'd absolutely follow every one of my commands?” He asked the Corporal.

Taige looked at him, “Absolutely,” he replied. 

“Including not withholding any thing back?”

“Including that.”

“This is seriously bad shit crazy, sitting on information like this. If this comes to light in Ishval, we could have some terrible conflicts about it.” Miles looked pointedly at Roy.

He was nodding, “Grumman's just as aware of this as I am. Look at it this way, I haven't even told Riza. This is not something the general public should know about just now. Ishval is still too much of an open wound, even considering how much we've progressed so far.”

Miles, still troubled, decided to change the subject. “Is there more information on these Exploring Officers available?” He asked, glancing at Mustang.

Roy grinned, a little relieved. “Got a copy of Hughes files' in your safe. It's the stuff of legends! These guys were amazing.” 

Miles sat there a moment just thinking. “I do need someone to head up the MP unit as well as MI missions for this fort. You up for that task?” He asked Taige.

“As long as I can pick the recruits for it... per your approval.” Taige said.

Miles felt a certain tension that had been between his shoulders slowly let go and he sighed in relief. “Well, I can't see any reason why you couldn't... plus run the intel lines we set up. Only problem is, I can't let a Corporal run such a thing.” He looked at Mustang.

Roy was smiling like the cat that ate the canary. He went to go clap his hands together and quickly caught himself, his face blanching a moment, “Eh... probably not a good idea for me to do that,” he said sheepishly, but then he reached inside his lapel pocket and pulled out a slim box and a letter.

He quickly recovered himself. “I came prepared for this one...” he chortled. “Once I had gone through Hughes' files at Central, I had a good long conversation with Grumman and we felt the need to rectify a rather gross dishonour.” He handed the letter and box to Taige. “Let me be the first to congratulate you, Second Lieutenant Taige.”

Taking the items, Taige froze in his chair. He looked at Mustang, blank faced in shock. 

Miles began chuckling. “Show off,” he growled at Mustang. 

Roy preened.

Taige looked down at the box, not bothering with the letter just yet. He opened it.

Inside lay two epaulettes bearing three gold stripes on a field of blue and a single gold star in the middle stripe. There was also a new collar pin. Taige reached in and picked it up, looking at it. Instead of the Amestrian Dragon, it had the Ishvallan Silver Hawk on it. He looked at Mustang.

“You're the first one to get that. Benji's and Miles' are on the way. Grumman decided that since Ishval is its own province now they deserve their own insignia. Amestris will keep its dragons, Ishval will have their silver hawks.” Roy said.

“Well, I'll be damned...” Miles muttered. He looked at Mustang, “Any news on a uniform change?”

“Baby steps Miles, baby steps.” He smiled at a still visibly stunned Taige. “The letter is post dated, by the way. Your change in rank has been pushed back to the date you re-enlisted. With the accrued back pay as well.”

Taige just stared at the box, the letter and the insignia pin. He set it back in the box and stood up, stumbling. He was beyond dog tired. He saluted them both. Utterly unable to speak. He finally managed to choke out, “Thank you, sirs...”

“My pleasure!” Roy said rising from his chair, returning his salute as Miles smirked, stayed right where he was, and returned his. Roy reached over and clasped Taige's hand. “I just apologize its taken this damned long to give you what you rightfully earned. Several times over.”

Taige said nothing. He could only look away from them both, reaching up to run his hand over his mouth, blinking suddenly. Roy just grinned and retrieved the box from his hand. He dropped it on the bed and pulled the epaulettes out. 

Seeing what he was about to do, Taige reached up and began unbuttoning one side while Roy did the other.

“I really should let Miles do this, but you know, bed rest.” Roy joked.

“What? And rob you of conducting a show?” Miles shot back.

“At least your sense of humour is still intact.” Roy returned, pulling the old epaulette off and sliding the new one onto Taige's left shoulder. He buttoned it and reached for the insignia pin. Taige finished the right. He glanced over to see Roy pocket the dragon insignia from his collar with a smirk on his face as he replaced it with the silver hawk. “There.” Roy pronounced. “That looks a damned sight better.”

Taige looked a little bemused.

“I still don't trust you, Lieutenant.” Miles said and smirked at him.

Taige huffed. “Understood, sir.” He smirked back.

At about that time there came a timid knocking on the door. 

“Just remember what we've discussed.” Roy said in a gentle warning as he reached out and opened the door. 

Vesya stood there and looked up at Mustang. Her face was pale, and a bit splotchy, from what had obviously been tears. Mustang looked a little surprised. 

“Vesya? Are you all right?” He glanced out in the lobby, seeing Rada and Naisha hugging one another. There seemed to be quite a little uproar going on out there.

“Is he..?” She asked and glanced into the room.

“There you are!” Miles started to say until he saw the look on her face. “Ves? What's wrong?” He tried to push himself up, wincing at the effort.

“What..?” Roy started, as Vesya hurried into the room. 

She was at Miles side in an instant. She stood frozen a moment, as he studied her.

“Vesya? Sweetheart, what is it, what's wrong?” He asked, concern rising at the look on her face. She seemed stunned, beside being a bit pale.

“Oh Miles!” She cried out, reaching out to cup his face in her hands. He found himself smothered in kisses again.

Roy and Taige exchanged looks as Miles set his hands on her shoulders and pushed her back to look at her. 

“Vesya?” He asked again, concerned. He pulled her hair off her face, baffled by the tears rolling down her cheeks. 

“Oh Miles...” She said again, shaking her head, then she smiled. “I'm...” she stammered. “I'm pregnant!”

There was a long pause, Miles stared at his wife as if shell-shocked. He was speechless. 

Then Taige let out an amused huff and Roy began to laugh.

“Are...” Miles gulped, “Are you sure?” He finally was able to ask her. She nodded her head, still cupping his face in her hands. She was smiling, the tears rolling down her face.

“I'm sure!”

“Oh, that's just perfect!” Roy grinned. 

Miles glanced at him. A big smile on his face. “Top that!” He said before embracing his wife.

“Easily,” Roy replied smugly. “Why do you think Riza didn't come with me?”

Vesya, breaking the embrace, turned and looked at Roy with a gasp of surprise. “Riza's pregnant, too?”

Miles looked from Roy to his wife, “When?” he asked.

Almost in chorus Roy and Vesya replied, “November!”

***

A weary Taige quietly slipped out of the room as Naisha darted inside past him and Mustang. He went straight up to Scar. He still easily held Veela in one arm, his other draped over Rada's shoulders. Veela was completely out, oblivious to the burble of happy noise in the lobby.

“Well?” Scar asked.

Taige looked at him. Then he shook his head in wondering disbelief. He glanced at an epaulette. “I've been promoted.” He murmured in subdued awe.

“Are you serious?” Rada exclaimed. 

Bozidar gave him a knowing wink. “Ah... not quite what you were expecting but a welcome relief I am sure?”

“Second Lieutenant?” Scar asked, noticing the change. 

“Of Fort Ishval.” Taige said tapping the collar insignia. “Grumman's ordered our own. Seeings we're a province.”

“Huh!” Scar huffed.

Taige shook his head, still not quite believing what had happened in there. Bozidar, chuckled, patting Taige's arm. 

“I've had a conversation with Oshea, the chieftain of Lejia, my son. One of his elderly uncle's recently passed into Ishvala's bosom and he has a small house, near the Lejia-Maazra-Gunja divide. It's not that far from the school. He's looking to let it, if you're inclined. Would that be of interest to you?”

Taige, who was holding out his hands to transfer Veela back to him, looked at Bozidar in surprise. “Are you serious?” He asked, settling Veela into his arms. She didn't even wake up. Scar appeared rather pleased at that small success.

“Of course I am,” Bozidar said serenely. “I've also discussed arrangement with the ladies about one of them walking our little miss Veela to school in the mornings. I do know your work in the Fort will take up some time. Plus I am aware Veela needs more time to adjust. Switching to one of the newer schools being planned wouldn't be advisable for the time being. She needs some familiarity as well as stability.”

Taige stared at him a moment. Then he flicked his gaze at Rada.

“She's more than welcome to stay with us after school as well, you know that.” Rada said. “You could pick her up after you get through with your duties.”

“I...” Taige started, looking between Bozidar, Scar, and Rada. “I'll not turn that down,” he stammered. He looked at Bozidar. “You're sure Oshea would let the home?” He very slowly sat down on a padded bench in the lobby, gingerly readjusting Veela.

“Of course! He's willing to let it for as long as you like. Even as your home gets built.”

“That might be a while,” Taige warned, sitting back, holding his child close. “A world of new responsibilities came with the promotion. I've no idea when I could even begin to build.”

“That may be...” Bozidar replied cryptically. “We'll see what Ishvala thinks, shall we?” He winked.

Taige shook his head again. He glanced at Scar who was giving him a faint, amused smirk. What was going on?

“I've also talked with my fellow brethren. If you can make the arrangements with our Colonel Miles, we'd like you to take a few of us to where you have our brother Tosca buried. We'd like to help you fulfill the promise you made to him to bring him home to Ishval.”

Scar blinked, looking at Taige. This was news. “What?” 

Taige let out a sigh, resting his head on Veela's. He closed his eyes, seeming relieved.

“I promised Saahad Tosca, before he died, to bring him home.” Taige murmured. “I talked about it with Saahad Bozidar. They've agreed that it is the right thing to do.” He glanced at the priest. “I'll discuss it with the Colonel. Maybe we can try and make the trek up there in the fall. Plus get whatever we need to transport a coffin back to Ishval.”

“Yes, that would be helpful...” Bozidar nodded. “It would make my heart glad knowing one of my brothers could make it back to Ishval for burial even after the Exile.” Then he looked at Taige. Bozidar seemed a little puzzled for a moment, before smiling in amusement.

Taige had fallen as sound asleep as his daughter.

*** 

The emotional toll of Taige's return to Ishval didn't really hit him until the day Miles and Scar drove him out to the deserted home site, in Outer Lejia. 

It was only a few days since everything had gone down. 

Miles was stiff and sore but fully back to running his fort. Mustang had departed, but not before seeing that Sergeant Bryant was packed onto one of the military trains that stopped occasionally in Ishval. He was sent to Central where his fate awaited him. Achran and Deuel had been left to Bozidar...

Taige had left Veela in Rada's care. She slept a lot, still experiencing nightmares. Vesya would come after classes, and help her keep up with her lessons. That distraction went far in keeping Veela from dwelling on her circumstances. The one on one tutoring helped immeasurably, as a few learning difficulties were presenting themselves. For that Taige was infinitely relieved.

Scar had been told some of Taige's story, mostly about the role he had played as an Exploring Officer, and in getting Miles sent to Briggs. Miles carefully, and somewhat reluctantly, edited what had occurred to Taige after his incarceration at Mawestown and beyond.

Borrowing the Armstrong car yet again, Miles drove them out to the home site and what greeted Taige, left him speechless, at first.

The three stood on a rise looking down at the copse of trees where he and Veela had camped those first few nights upon their return. To his shock he stared down at a construction site. Two of the forts trucks, loaded with supplies were parked close in. The walls of his planned home were being constructed by a mixed crew of Lejian and Kandan volunteers, led by Oshea, the Lejian chieftain and Taige's new landlord.

In the shade of the trees, several long tables, conveniently set up with newly donated fence posts and blocks, were being loaded with food managed by a large group of women and children. A pair of cooking fires were burning and there was a general, community festival like, atmosphere in the air. 

Taige could only stare at what he was seeing, reaching up to run a hand down his face. He looked away a moment towards the river and he felt his legs go weak.

Scar reached over, dropping his hand on his shoulder as Taige fell to his knees. He was shaking, his hand over his mouth as he stared at the undergoing construction.

“The materials for the house and paddocks are a combined donation of the fort and what strings Andakar could pull within the community.” Miles said, standing just behind Taige. “We decided, General Mustang and I, that this would be a nice place to keep our second string horses. That would free up the corrals at the fort to keep training horses and new recruits.” 

Miles wanted to grasp his hands behind his back, like he normally would, but his bruising wouldn't allow it, so he settled for crossing his arms. “That is, if you want them here?”

Taige couldn't reply. He felt his eyes stinging and he clenched his teeth as a sob tried to escape him. When Scar dropped to one knee next to him, and began to murmur a prayer, Taige could no longer keep it back. 

He began to weep.

Miles said nothing. He just graciously looked away and a slight smile played across his lips.

It seemed appropriate when Scar, gripping Taige's shoulder tightly, murmured, “Doishteve ni Ishval, brother. It's been a long time coming.”

***

Not long after that, Taige, had succeeded in his offer of labour to Stanno Dreva. He was using the Kanda chieftain's bar to break up kalcheh in a series of post holes. They had been dug opposite the wash from his future house. It was very early on an off day for him. He had ridden in on his recovered bay the night before and spent the night. Plans were to at least get the post holes dug before the late spring heat started to kick in.

At day break, Taige was stripped of his shirt, with his hair clubbed back using a new horsehair cord. He wore only his riding boots and a pair of loose cotton pants. He drove the bar into the hardpan, before reaching into the holes and flicking away the calcium deposits. He was just lifting the bar again, the sun having barely broke over the horizon, when he caught side of the bay. His horse, tethered nearby in the shade of the trees, had his head turned and was looking alertly towards the river. Ears pointed straight forward.

Taige looked at the horse, lowering the bar, then looked in the direction the horse was indicating. As he turned, his hearing caught the far off sound of neighing.

A jolt went through him, when he turned and stared. On the far side of the river, he saw them.

He dropped the bar and ran to where his saddle had been set on its cantle on the ground. A quick rummage through a saddle bag and he pulled the sniper scope out. Focusing, he stared, his mouth dropping open. 

On the far side of the Halik a small herd of horses had appeared. They were wandering down to the water's edge, huffing and sniffing, before wading in and drinking. The horses were tall, rangy creatures, sparse manes and tails snarled and wild. Their coats, however, despite the burrs and nicks and cuts of a life living wild, had an unmistakable metallic sheen. 

Taige fumbled the scope, before stuffing it inside his boot and he reached down and grabbed a coil of rope. He paused only long enough to untether the bay, slipping the bridle on him before vaulting onto the horse's bare back. He had to curb his own excitement, forcing himself to keep the bay at a walk while he searched for a place to cross the river.

It would later become one of those tales of Fort Ishval told for many years afterwards. The day Fort Ishval's Lieutenant rode in with a wild Wahiran Istiqan.

They could hear his fast paced trotting well before he reached the fort. Civilians and soldiers along the outskirts of the city and the fort all stopped to stare.

Taige made quite an entrance as he rode into the fort. Holding his hand up, he gripped the shortened lead on a horse that made the Westfalan light draft he rode look small. He was leading a young colt, easily 17 hands tall, long limbed, long bodied, and holding its head up high. The horse was fully alert, looking around wide eyed, bobbing it's head. 

The colt, a bay, with four black stockings, had a coat that shone like a new copper cenz piece, metallic and shiny under Ishval's late afternoon sun. The creature looked like something straight out of Ishval's ancient history; regal, noble and easily worth a king's ransom.

The man riding next to it, looked up at the horse and he was smiling in triumph.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Somehow, after being graciously allowed to play in her world, it didn't seem right to me not to include Cap's amazing OC, Shua. The guy simply can't be ignored. I have dubbed him the 'attention seeking pig'. The thing is, he's in a world uniquely his own and it was intimidating as hell to write him...
> 
> Judging from Cap's reaction to this epilogue though, I think it may have worked!

****

## 

Epilogue:

****

Ishval October 1917 – 5 months later

Chance Encounter

or

The Little Djinni and The Scarecrow

  


The niggling buzz of a headache reminded Taige that he was sorely overdue for a good long sleep. The past ten days had been both stressful, and bittersweet. Not to mention reopening long unpleasant memories and the loss of a good friend.

But Tosca was home now. Properly and blessedly reburied in Ishval. His funeral had been attended by the five remaining priests, Lejia's chieftain; Oshea, Andakar Ruhad and any others who wished to pay their respects for a long departed brother priest, now returned to his homeland.

He had thought, with the return of memories, he would have broken down again, not unlike he had with the community effort of building his home in outer Lejia. He found though, he was more accepting of the grief, mainly in part by Tosca's own teaching. His steady friendship through all the turmoil and horror they had jointly shared had been invaluable.

Bozidar's words of wisdom and gentle reminder that full closure would also work with time had helped as well.

Now though, the funeral was over, and he had earned a few days leave from his duties at the Fort. He wanted nothing more than to get out of the city proper and back to the training of his Istiqan's. He smiled slightly, he'd since been able to gain two more of the wild horses since arriving at Fort Ishval with the bay colt that past Spring. He now had a pregnant bay and a spectacular cremolla filly.

The filly, with the classic metallic sheen of her solid, cream coloured coat, shimmered iridescent in sunlight. She was a stunning creature, looking other-worldly with her pale blue eyes. She was shaping up to be a very promising cavalry horse. More training with her and she would be an excellent horse for his more arduous border patrols. The Wahiran Istiqan's were renowned for their endurance and speed on rough desert terrains.

The other thing he looked forward to was currently hanging onto to the end of his chuva, the coral and black sash announcing to one and all that he was 'proper'. He was dressed in the usual Ishvallan garb of light tunic and loose dark cotton pants, only in his case they were encased in a pair of riding boots. His white hair, as always, was pulled back and clubbed with a thin, plaited cord. 

Veela, clenched the tail end of the sash, like she was keeping him on a leash. Taige glanced down at her, a slight smirk crooking his lips. He knew it was because she was terrified still of the markets, through which they were strolling. It did also keep her very close to him. Then there was the fact she was a little clingy with him having been gone for so long.

He had left her in his commander's and Vesya's care, seeing's how the Ruhad household desperately needed some peace after the arrival of Winry Rockbell. The ensuing circus that had, figuratively and literally, descended on them had left them all a bit drained. They needed the time to adjust to the fact that Scar had just been, for the most part, exonerated for his past and suddenly thrust into the public limelight. Vesya, and Rada, had had the most effect on his child, to the point where Veela was nearly caught up with her classes.

She was, however, still deeply shy, especially of strangers. He knew it was still going to be a while before she would get used to the chaotic, colourful and noisy markets. She did have a knack for getting a little tangled with his long legs. He gently sighed, dropped his hand to her head and steered her clear, so he could purchase some things he was after before they rode for Outer Lejia.

With the little knot of tension bringing on his headache, he was also keeping a wary eye out the people around him. He was nearing the outer access road nearest to the Fort, being in the Wahir district. Most of the folks in both the Lejian and Kandan markets were used to seeing Veela and her mop of curly white hair. Wahir was a different story. 

The tale of his child's rather surprising ability to catch snakes had, for a time that past Spring, led to rumours of her being cursed. That, her soft-spoken shyness, and her hyper-ventilating instead of screaming, hadn't helped matters. Her kidnapping and injuries at the hands of an Amestrian soldier had done much to dispel those rumours, but there were still die hards. Especially in markets where they weren't so familiar. Veela's curls also tended to get a lot of attention.

So he was already trying to cope with the irritating burr of the headache. The stares and furtive, behind the hands, whispering of strangers further annoyed him. Add Veela's need to stick close to him, hand on sash and whenever he stopped, she'd grab a fistful of his tunic. He was constantly having to be mindful not to step on her. 

Usually he just let her ride his shoulders, but they required supplies for the next few days, so he needed his arms free. As it was he had his saddlebags draped over one of his shoulders already. He had paused at a leather merchant's stall, in need of fine strips of leather. He had entered into a lengthy bargaining argument with the man running it, knowing he was trying to overcharge for his goods. Veela, had stepped around in front of him, still clutching tunic and sash and peering out from around his legs.

With her father held up in his bargaining, she glanced up at him occasionally and eventually stepped out past him. Her eyes wide with trepidation mingled with awe at a bead merchant next to the leather goods. Eventually she released her grip on his tunic, stepping a little closer towards the stall, filled with bowls and pots and jars full of beads, bells, and bangles. She still kept a strangle hold on the end his chuva and gazed in wonder at the colourful sight in front of her.

She was wholly unprepared for the scarecrow who suddenly loomed up over her...

***

Dressed in a tunic, and cotton pants tucked into boots, the scarecrow had his tunic tucked in as well. Around his waist he wore a wide leather belt. He easily stood 6'5, thin and long limbed. He had the tan skin and red eyes of his people, plus a shaggy mane of silver hair. Being early evening on a late October day, the temperatures had dropped so he also had on an odd long-sleeved coat that fell to his knees. It looked like it had seen a lot of travel, lending to the scarecrow aspect.

Shua was also somewhat tipsy.

He had been ambling his way towards the outer access road of Wahir. Being his normal gregarious self, he didn't say no to a few beers and occasional halmi chasers from people he knew and people he didn't know. Shua wasn't about to refuse good old Ishvalan hospitality. Still, his wife was at the Fort and was due to meet him at the access point before travelling with him back to Kanda, so he had to maintain some semblance of sobriety. Just not much. 

Coming closer to his rendezvous point, he nearly got plastered by one of Stanno's rickshaw pullers. The rickshaws, a Xingese idea, had taken off like wildfire in the early part of summer. It appeared that no end was in sight for their potential. Still, one had to keep an eye out, with all the masses of people milling about, the chances of getting clipped by a rickshaw was up there. 

Many chickens had become stew since the rickshaw's debuted...

Shua was forced to jump out of the way rather hastily as one of the 'shaws burst through an intersection. He barely registered that he was stepping back into something when he caught himself from nearly toppling over. He didn't get to be both a street fighter and a dancer by being clumsy though, and he recovered, with much waving of his arms, very quickly. His sight caught a tiny figure at his feet behind him that he had almost stepped on.

“ _Hai!_ ” he called out, “watch yourself there, laleh! I could've stepped on you.” He turned and looked down, his easy, friendly smile on his face. His sight fell on a tiny little girl with a full mop of white curls and ringlets. 

He blinked in astonishment.

Wait...

Curls?

“Well, Ishvala bless my raggedy soul!” he exclaimed. “What magical djinni's shusha did you pop out of? Will you look at that!” He suddenly crouched, gazing at the child, reaching out to tousle her head of hair.

It was then, Shua realized, she was staring at him in wide eyed terror.

She was drawing in a deep breath of air, apparently getting ready to scream. He waved his hands, starting to rise and back up. “Settle down, little djinni!” He said quickly, watching as she became rooted in place, trembling and beginning to gasp. “It's okay, laleh! I didn't mean to...”

A man stepped in between him and the child. Shua suddenly found himself being pushed back as the man stiff armed him, planting his hand on his chest.

“Don't,” The man growled in warning, glaring hard into his eyes. He stepped to one side of the girl, holding a warning finger up into Shua's face, “Back off!” He fingered a set of saddlebags on his shoulder. 

Not unlike he was about to swing them...

Shua drew his head back, momentarily astonished, and studied the man. Obviously this was the little one's father. There was something, he couldn't tell what just yet, odd about him. He was just a few inches shorter, solid enough, and wore his hair clubbed. He also stood ramrod straight, and there was something about his bearing... 

There was also a faint sneer of contempt on his lips and Shua figured it was because he did have a rather delicate alcoholic aroma about him.

With a move only gained with long practise, the man leaned over and easily scooped the little girl up in one arm, settling her on his hip. She instantly clung to him, burying her face in his shirt as he straightened, eyeing Shua one last moment before he turned and stalked away into the crowd.

Shua stood there a moment, thinking. Wait a minute, his brained screamed at him, he was carrying saddlebags... There weren't any other horses in Ishval save at the fort. There couldn't be another Ishvallan soldier, could there? There weren't any Ishvallan soldiers at the fort, save Colonel Miles.

Scratch that, Shua thought, this guy was too old to just be a soldier, he had to be... 

“No way!” Shua stared at the man as he slowly got swallowed up by the crowds. Another officer? Miles was rare enough. When did this guy show up?

Then the other fact dinged in Shua's brain. Officer or not, the guy had stiff-armed him. Like he had committed some sort of crime... actually, physically, shoved him away. 

“Wait, wait, wait!” Shua exclaimed, waving his hands, frowning in consternation. “What the hell was that all about? Come back here a minute.” He glanced through the crowds, spotted the man's head and promptly began following him. “I got something I want to ask...” He began rattling off, bobbing his way around people. “When did another Ishvallan bluecoat show up??”

At the border wall marking the boundary of the city proper and the outer access road, there was a horse tethered in an area where the rickshaws could pull into and still stay out of the way of trucks. There were a couple of the fort's trucks parked nearby and people were ferrying goods back and forth to the market place. It was just as noisy...

Shua's eyes gleamed in triumph. He'd called that one right on the spot, more or less. A bay Westfalan gelding stood in droopy eyed, bored contemplation, that was until the man carrying the child approached him. The horse was wearing military issue riding gear.

The man swung the saddle bags on the back of the horse behind the cantle, then lifted the child up onto the horse’s withers. He took a rolled up coil of rope from the side of the saddle kit, preparing to hand it to the little girl so he could adjust the saddlebags properly when Shua walked up behind him.

The child, gripping a handful of mane, gasped, freezing in place as Shua dropped his hand onto the man's shoulder, tapping it twice and preparing to turn the man around to face him.

“I just gotta ask! You're as rare as hen's teeth!” He started to say, “When the hell did Miles get another Ishvallan off...” 

That's when everything went abruptly black.

***

The last thing Shua expected was to find himself flat on his back, stars spinning in his vision and a ringing in his head. 

Not to mention the slowly mounting pain. 

He groaned, reaching up to gingerly touch the corner of his mouth. Dismayed, he pulled back his fingers at the feel of something warm and slick. A metallic iron tang registered in his brain and he opened his eyes. He looked at his finger tips, which were stained with blood. He squinted again, trying to get the stars in his vision to recede.

Slowly rising to stand above him, was the man. 

He was shifting his feet, presenting as little of himself to Shua as possible and stepping back to keep out of range of Shua's own legs. He held one arm out, hand open and the other was pulled back, clenching a rolled up coil of rope. Shua couldn't help but notice that both the man's wrists were scarred.

“Damn,” Shua managed to mumble, “That's a first. Getting sucker punched with a lariat?” He cracked his eyes open a little more, trying to get the measure of the man standing above him.

The man's knees were flexed a little, and he was coldly studying Shua with a clinical detachment in his dark red eyes. There was something about the man's stance that was trying to get Shua's attention...

This guy could not be another Ishvallan warrior priest. 

There was no way. 

Not if he had a child... then again, Andakar Ruhad had been a priest and now he had three kids.

Ehhh, history did not repeat itself... still, that stance was a little too familiar. Plus the fact he was an Ishvalan officer.

“Where the hell did you come from?” Shua demanded, twisting to one side, and getting to his knees. He shook his head again, trying to clear his vision. Running the back of his hand across his mouth, he looked at the blood. 

“Now look here...” He started to say, rising to his feet. A blur of movement kicked Shua's instincts into high gear. Purely defensive, he blocked the man's arm as he swung, and grabbed his wrist, stopping him from clobbering him with the coil of rope. Deftly, Shua managed to snag it out of the man's hand.

“Damn, son!” He exclaimed dancing back from the following attempt to hit him. He hefted the rope, looking at it. “This thing feels like iron!”

At another incoming attempt to strike him, Shua dropped the rope and blocked the man's arm from connecting with him. For several moment's Shua ducked, bobbed, and wove to stay, just barely, a hairsbreadth from getting himself pummelled. 

“Look, I'm just trying to figure you out!” He said, twisting aside. “It's not every day you run into an Ishavalan officer, much less one who knows how to fight like a....” He jerked his head back, just barely missing getting punched in the face again. 

For a few seconds both men traded and blocked a flurry of blows. Shua finally jumped back, almost stumbling into the crowd of spectators gathering around the two. The man, barely breaking a sweat, maintained his stance. He'd barely moved a few feet from the horse. The little girl was still clinging to the horse's mane, watching them with fear all over her face.

“I told you to back off,” The man growled at him. 

“How can you back off when you run into a little djinni like that?” Shua asked spreading his arms out, palms up, to the laughter a few of the spectators. “I mean, when's the last time anyone saw curls like that on an Ishvallan?”

There were a few raucous agreeing answers called out from the crowd

Somebody plunked a shot glass of halmi in his hand. Surprised, Shua turned around, looking at the crowd with a huge smile on his face. He raised the glass. “Ehhh! Cheers!” He called out to whoever it was and he knocked it back in one gulp. “Liquid fortification never goes awry!” Shua played it up for the responding laughter of the crowd. He tossed the shot glass over his shoulder.

While Shua was distracted by his audience, the man stepped forward, and swept the coil of rope off the ground. He did not take his eyes off Shua. The sneer on his lip had returned, as well as a simmering, burning fire in his eyes. He stood up straight, though he still presented himself with as little target as possible.

When Shua turned back to face him, he said, “She... is not a djinni.” His eyes drifted out to the people forming a circle around then. “She's not a cadi. She's not a sehrbazdir. She's not cursed, or damned or an abomination.” He said loudly, then heaved a disgusted sigh. “She's a little girl and she's my child!”

“Aw, come on!” Shua protested, still smiling. “How can something that adorable not pop out of djinni's shusha?” He turned his head to the right, stoking the crowd. “Am I right?” He looked back at the man.

“For that matter...” Shua continued, letting a little sarcasm drip into his voice. “You had to have popped out of one yourself. I know that there is only one Ishvallan bluecoat left in Amestris. So what shusha did you come out of?”

That met with a chorus of laughter. 

“It sure as hell isn't the one you seem to be drowning yourself in.” The man growled.

“Ah, now that just hurts.” Shua shook his head, “Especially 'cuz I'm the only fellow in town who even knows how to make this stuff.” More laughter greeted his comment. “And I really haven't had all that much either.” He smirked a little at the man. “Then again after all these years, it doesn't seem to have that much effect on me any more!”

That brought more laughter.

The man just looked at him with contempt, saying nothing. He gave one last scathing glare at the crowd and turned his back on Shua, dismissing him. He held the rope coil up for the little girl to take then reached over and started to adjust the saddle bags into their proper place on the horse. 

Shua frowned, “Now look, don't go turning your back on me like that.” He walked towards the man “You never know what might...” He jerked his head back again as another lightning fast jab was aimed at his head. He shifted and slapped both hands on the man's arm, blocking the blow. However, the man twisted, bringing around his leg in a roundhouse kick.

''Ah ah ahh!” Shua admonished, catching the leg and, using the man's momentum, managed to send his stumbling sideways past the horse. He recovered very quickly, sidling back towards his mount, looking for another opportunity to strike.

He waded straight in, making Shua smile, until at the last second the man twisted and brought his left elbow up and around, connecting solidly with Shua's head. 

Blinded a moment, Shua staggered to the right, barely staying upright as his opponent stalked after him.

“Ok, lahaat, if that's the way you want to play...” His hand flashed under his coat and back, whipping out one of the pair of long knives he kept sheathed there.

The man jumped back, instantly regaining his fighting stance and watched as Shua adroitly manoeuvred the knife. It was really more of a short sword with a braided black leather handle and a wicked steel hook at the base of the blade. “Anyone willing to take wagers on how much longer this is going to last?” he called out with a grin, following the man's movement.

The crowd shouted and laughed with approval.

“I really don't want to do this, lahaat, Especially because you're an officer. Which means I'm actually going to have to work at this and everyone here knows how much I enjoy being a lazy bastard!” 

The crowd ate it up.

“Then I'd have to answer to my wife!”

Shua spun, bringing the knife in an upward slice, as the man twisted and managed to land his elbow in the centre of Shua's back. Shua staggered forward, using his knife arm to block another blow, he spun around, trying to keep him in his sight and he saw the man reach up and jerk the band out of his hair. 

He danced back, bringing the knife back up and watched the man settle back into his fighting stance, the one hand clenched, the other open. His hair now spilled in disarray around his shoulders.

Shua frowned again, not quite getting it as the man came at him. Shua parried, trying to block the type of blows meant to deaden his arms. He had learned from lessons in the past how not to let those type of hits land. He twisted again, bringing the knife up, when the man's open hand landed hard on his wrist, clenching it and pulling him off balance.

Shua stumbled by him and saw a flicker of movement as the man danced past him, getting around behind Shua's back.

An alarm bell went off in his head and he instantly dropped his knife, throwing his hand up to his neck. Sure enough, he heard a faint whir in the air and then the bite of a thin plait of horsehair cord cut into his hand.

At the same moment, he felt his legs getting knocked out from under him as the man whipped the cord around his neck and grabbed both ends. 

Shua fell to his knees, the man bearing him down. He jerked both his fists out, the horsehair cord cutting into the back of Shua's neck.

“I told you to back off!” The man growled in Shua's ear. He planted a hand in the dirt to keep himself from ending up with his face in it. The man stood crouched over him, both fists clenching the cord and maintaining the pressure of the garrotte on Shua's hand and throat. 

Shua snarled, looking askance at the man's boot. With one hand keeping him off the ground and the other keeping him from getting strangled to death, he wheezed. “Shehai li Ishvala, lahaat! I've had a few dirty tricks played on me in the past but this one beats them all!”

“This one almost got you killed as well!” Another voice snapped out sarcastically, authoritatively.

Shua glanced up, red faced, and grinned. A pair of blue clad legs and combat boots, plus the blade of a sabre greeted his vision. He smirked, he knew exactly where that blade was at.

“Eh-h, Ollie-laleh. There you are!” He said cheerfully.

“Stand down soldier! That's an order!” The woman barked in demand, angry.

Then throughout all the din, there came the fearful cry of “Papa!”

***

Taige, still bent over his opponent with malice aforethought, certainly didn't expect to feel the tip of a sabre under his chin. The blade was actually starting to bite into the flesh at his throat. He glanced at this new distraction, his eyes fixing on the blue Amestrian uniform then the amount of gold bars and single star on the person's shoulders. 

Things registered rapidly. 

Sword. Blonde. Female. General. Briggs. Oh. Shit.

Then he heard Veela's cry of alarm.

He instantly let go of the garrotte, stepping back from his opponent who fell flat on his face into the dirt and began coughing. The sabre followed him as he snapped to attention and froze in place. He looked past the General's left epaulette to a far off, fixed point in space. He clenched his jaw and said nothing.

The other man, slowly got onto his hands and knees, grabbing at the horsehair cord that had fallen to the ground. He also clenched his fallen long knife.

“Who the hell are you?” Major General Olivier Armstrong demanded, glaring daggers into Taige's face, still not lowering the sword. “And what the hell are you doing with one of the Fort's horses?”

She barked out her demands in a voice that had guaranteed most men would be shaking in their shoes. Especially by the time she had finished verbally eviscerating them.

However, Olivier had noticed that most of the Ishvallan men she had ever encountered could not be intimidated. This one certainly was not an exception. He maintained that fierce, fiery, glare in his red eyes.

Shua, still on his hands and knees, trying to catch his breath, croaked. “Yeah, thanks for the concern, laleh. I'm fine by the way!” He reached up and rubbed at the back of his neck.

“Second Lieutenant Eamon Taige, ma'am.” Taige clipped out, keeping his salute. “The horse is my assigned mount.”

“Hah!” Shua half coughed, half chortled as he climbed to his feet, staggering a bit. “I knew you were a fucking officer!” He dusted himself off, then sheathed his long knife. He looked at Taige with renewed interest.

Olivier was glaring at Taige in a mixture of anger and disbelief. She shot an irritated scowl at Shua. “I can't leave you alone for ten minutes without you getting yourself into some sort of trouble anywhere we go, can I?”

“You've been warned more than once not to take me places,” Shua gleefully responded, looking down at the horsehair plait. He shot a seductive smirk at her, raising an eyebrow, “But you still take me places anyway!”

Olivier huffed in disgust and looked back at Taige. “Don't you know who the hell he is?” She snarled.

“No, ma'am.”

“Is that some sort of joke?” She demanded.

“I've never met this man,” Taige responded, to Olivier's look of total disbelief.

“Where the hell did you even come from?! Colonel Miles is the only Ishvalan officer known to Central Command,” Olivier snapped. “And I was just talking with him!”

Before Taige could respond, they all heard Veela cry out for her father again. This time there was a note of panic in her voice.

“Oh now, don't start that,” Shua said, slipping past both soldiers, approaching the horse. “Come on, little djinni! It's all right. It was all just a bit of fun and...”

Before he could get any closer, Veela took one look at him and threw herself off the other side of the horse. For a moment she dangled, swinging, by the animal's mane. The horse swung his head around to look at her. His expressive eye wondering what this was all about. Veela promptly slid down the bay's leg and dashed around behind it. 

Shua started in alarm. “Laleh! I wouldn't...” Being behind a horse, no matter what size you were was not a very smart thing to do. The horse stood stock still, however, as Veela darted around him then slipped behind and clamped herself onto her father's leg.

Taige, still stuck in the prolonged salute, rocked slightly, trying to maintain his stance and unable to move or say a word until released by his superior.

Olivier scowled in disgust, shooting an irritated glare at Shua. Then she focused her ire and irritation on Taige.

“I asked you a question, soldier,” she snapped.

“Re-enlisted last Spring, ma'am.”

“You're out of uniform,” she growled, “why?” 

“I'm on three days leave.”

“Why the hell do you have one of the fort's horses, then?”

“I maintain the second stringers out at my place.”

“Your place?” Olivier just glared at him a little longer, her lip still lifted in a snarl. She pulled the sabre down, wiping the blade off on her pants leg then sheathed it.

“You can drop the salute,” she ordered, still not technically releasing him.

“Ma'am...” Taige nodded, promptly dropping his hand down on top of Veela's head. She was clinging, double fisted, to his tunic and looking apprehensively at both Shua and Olivier.

Olivier studied him a moment longer then glared at Shua. “You just can't be left alone for a minute can you?”

“Why? You're around,” He shot back with a decidedly unwholesome grin. He was studying the plait of horsehair in his hands.

“For once, could you not go getting yourself into trouble?!” 

“You'd be be bored as hell if I ever did, Ollie-laleh, and you know it.” Shua replied.

Taige was looking back and forth between the two of them. One was the renowned, indomitable Northern Wall of Briggs, the other was dismissing her like it was nothing. Almost like he was her...

Shua looked at him, then held out a hand, the horsehair cord, looped, poked out of the top of his fist. 

“This is clever as hell. A lethal hair band! My son needs one of these... unless he just decides to throttle an opponent with his hair as long as it's gotten. What's weighing down the ends?”

“Pebbles,” Taige responded, still at attention.

Shua looked at him and crowed. “Oh that's magic, that is! Horsehair and rocks, instant garotte!” He looked at Olivier. “I like this guy!” He looked back at Taige. “You're sure you two didn't pop out of a shusha?”

“ _This guy_ just tried to strangle the Honourable Member of Parliament!” Olivier snarled at him.

Taige blanched. “Member of ..?” He started. 

Shua grinned at him. “Name's Shua, Honourable Member of Parliament for Ishval.” He reached out and grabbed Taige's hand to shake it. He nodded at Olivier, “She's my wife.”

Taige just stared at him. General Olivier Armstrong was married? To an Ishvallan? He still wasn't so sure he could trust any of the military Armstrong members, especially the ones from Western Amestris. He'd heard of Olivier though, but married? When had that happened?

Taige shook his head slightly, closing his eyes wearily. Could this day possibly get any more stressful?

Shua kept his hand in a warm clasp, shaking it. With his other hand he pointed downwards at Taige's boots. “And who is she?” He looked specifically down at Veela.

Taige still didn't move. 

Olivier shook her head in disgust. “As you were...” she grumbled. She folded her arms, studying Taige.

“Thank you, ma'am,” Taige replied, releasing Shua's hand. He twisted around and picked Veela up, settling her on his hip. She turned away from Shua and Olivier, wrapping her arms around her father's neck, laying her head on his shoulder.

“This is my daughter, Veela,” he said, placing his hand protectively on her back. “She's very shy.”

“Look at this, Ollie, curls on an Ishvallan! You know how rare that is?” Shua saw Taige heave a sigh.

“Annnnd you seem to be getting tired of hearing that from folks. As well as hearing her being called a witch, a sorceress and a genie, am I right?” Shua asked. “Not to mention her being called cursed, damned, and an abomination?”

“She's a kid?!” Olivier snapped, looking at Shua, then at Veela.

“She's just a little girl...” Taige said wearily. “And I've been away for the last ten days. I just want to go home and spend some time with my child.” He reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut a moment before looking back at Shua.

“Nothing wrong with that,” Shua grinned, “And it explains your rather vicious mood.” He rubbed at his throat a minute then stepped closer. “Veela, laleh...” He said, holding up the horsehair plait. “I think your papa might want this back, eh?”

At first she didn't move, then she turned, her forehead resting on Taige's jaw and looked askance at Shua with trepidation. 

“Pet, this is Zharaad Shua,” Taige murmured into her hair. “And that is Zharaana General Armstrong.” Oliver hadn't moved from her decidedly disapproving stance.

Shua pulled out his winningest charm, holding the loop of horsehair up. Veela cast a wary glance at Olivier then she looked back at Shua. Timidly she slowly reached out and took the horsehair cord.

“There ya go, little djinni... er, laleh! How about this?” He reached up behind her ear, which promptly caused her to pull back into Taige's chest, but then Shua brought his hand out and held up a shiny new fifty cenz piece in his long fingers.

“Now where did that come from, eh?” He deftly manoeuvred the coin along his fingers.

Veela looked at it, then at Shua, who was holding it up for her to take.

“Go on darling, you can take it. It's yours!” He encouraged.

Veela pulled her head back and looked at her father. 

He nodded, “It's okay, moppet,” he mumbled. Ishvala, he was tired!

“Moppet is it? Ahh, that would be for that little mop of curls you're wearing. I like it.” He smiled and still held the coin out. Cautiously, Veela reached over and shyly took it from his hand.

“What do you say, pet?”

Very softly, she whispered a thank you to Shua, who was charmed to his toes. “Ah, laleh, you're going to break hearts when you get older!”

She looked at her father a moment then whispered something in his ear. Taige almost had to bite the inside of his cheek.

“No, pet, he's not a qorzhunc,” he said to her.

“A what?” Olivier demanded. 

Shua began to chuckle, clapping his hands together. He set them on his knees, bending forward and looking directly into Veela's face. “I tell you what, little moppet. Every time I call you a djinni, you call me djaari qorzhunc, okay?” 

“What the hell is a qorzhunc?” Olivier demanded.

“It's a scarecrow,” Taige replied.

Shua began laughing. “Little Djinni and the Scarecrow... What's not to love? That could almost be a song!”

***

“Eh-h! Ishvala help the poor sod who has to get past him to court his daughter!” 

Shua and Olivier stood and watched as Taige expertly manoeuvred his horse around trucks and people and slowly rode out of town. Olivier still had a perplexed and sour look on her face. She glanced at him.

“Grandpa scarecrow?” she asked, sceptically. 

He grinned, reaching up to drape an arm across her shoulders. “When he said her name I realized that she's the one my granddaughter and Danika have been talking about. She stays at the Ruhad household after school until he can pick her up. Apparently that little one is rather good at catching snakes. It set off a firestorm of gossip all over Ishval. I just had no idea what the little mite looked like until I nearly stepped on her.” He looked at Olivier. “Danika's been calling me djaari since she's around Mika all the time. That little djinni might as well too.”

“They'd better not start calling me baata...” Olivier warned. She looked around at several different batches of soldiers. “Which of you are heading for the Kanda district?” She called out.

Shua huffed with amusement. “The girls tell me she's had a rough time settling in around here.” What little information Shua had he related to Olivier. “It's no wonder to me why he reacted the way he did.”

“Technically, you oaf, he assaulted you!” She growled, leading the two of them to the soldiers who said they were heading to the southern part of Ishval proper.

“I'll not fault a father for protecting his child,” Shua grinned and looked at his hand where Taige's horsehair cord had cut into it. 

Olivier reached up and turned his head to face her, looking at the cut on his lip. “You’re getting careless...” she muttered.

Shua pointed at the cut. “This is getting clobbered with a lariat. Wasn't expecting it.” He smirked at her, his eyes studying her face. “That there Lieutenant is rather too good at being utilitarian. I get the distinct impression that people in his past who crossed him didn't live to repeat it. Besides....”

He gave her a decidedly lecherous look, “I need you to keep me on my toes.”

Olivier scowled, waving off his remark. “What gets me is why Miles didn't say anything to me about him. I've been up there for the last few hours...” Oliver frowned again, thinking hard. She hated mysteries as much as Miles.

Shua's fingertips found a particular spot on her neck and slowly began drawing circles on it. She tipped her head back, scrunching her shoulders and shot a look at him. 

He just grinned, unrepentant.

“Do you tell him about all your officers?” Shua asked.

“Of course not!” She growled, reaching up to try and flick his fingers away.

“So why should he? It's his fort...”

“But another Ishvallan officer? All the Ishvallans in the military were purged by 1908, save for Miles. Where'd he come from?”

“Notice his wrists? They had scars on them. I've seen those before,” Shua said. “They're from shackles. Where the metal bites into the wrists above the bones from being on too long and too tight. The wounds don't heal properly. I'd bet a barrel of my next batch of sholmi that he's got a matching set on his ankles.”

“Shackles?” She asked, looking sharply at him. 

Shua heaved a sigh, “Ollie, love, there were a lot of Ishvallans interred in 'camps' during the war.” Shua made quote marks with his fingers. “He had to have been one of them.”

“I know for a fact that all of the Ishvallan military detainees were eliminated by Central Command.”

“And how would you know that?” Shua asked her.

“That,” she said with finality, “is classified information. You, even as the Member of Parliament for Ishval, do not have security clearances high enough for me to even be discussing this with you.”

Shua just looked at her, raising one eyebrow in curiosity. “Oh really?” he asked.

“Really.” She said flatly, seeing the challenge rising in his eyes. “Even that won't work.” She forestalled him.

“I haven't even started yet, love...” He warned with a seductive grin. 

“Don't even begin to toy with the idea, Shua.” She growled in warning.

“Then quit baiting me with it,” He grinned. “You know I can't resist a challenge!”

“All I want to know is where that guy came from. He said he re-enlisted, that means he was a soldier, but how could he have survived?”

Shua shrugged, tightening his arm around her shoulder and dropping a quick kiss on her temple.

“That, my dear laleh, is probably a whole 'nother story...”


End file.
